Heart's Desire
by ProcrastinationIsMyCrime
Summary: Storming out of the common room after a row with Hermione was all it took for Harry's life and all he knew to change. From rich to only a few knuts to his name and the clothes on his back, Harry has to stay sane when nothing makes sense anymore. Will he rise above the struggles to come? Will this be the one to push him past his limits? Post GoF, Independent. Dimension Travel.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

 **Heart's desire**

 **Chapter 1**

The area was quiet and desolate, but open. High winds whipping through the open space. The floor lit by the deceptive stars above. It was no secret place; no inaccessible hidden liar akin to the Chamber of Secrets, but it served the same purpose he wanted right now.

Solitude.

Holding the bars firmly but feet firmly planted on the stone floor, there was no intention to throw away what had somehow managed to survive against ridiculous odds once more.

He felt dirty.

He shouldn't be alive.

Looking down at the freshly healed scar on his right forearm, memories of how he got it flashed behind his eyes once again. Green light; Cedric; Voldemort's resurrection; fighting to stay alive; ghosts of his parents; fanfare in the quidditch pitch.

Grip tightening on the bars of the balcony, he ignored the consequential cutting pain; he deserved it.

 _Chivalry. Fair play. Ha! Look where that got me. Look where it got Cedric! It's my fault._

Instantly a voice of reason within his mind began, but he relentlessly fought against it with no intention of hearing her nagging once again. He was sick of fighting with her about this; he'd fled the common room not an hour ago to get away from her. With the map and cloak in his robes, they'd have to search the entire castle. And it was now after curfew, so not bloody likely to happen. Especially since the train was taking him back to that excuse of a family in the morning.

 _Hermione really needs to know when to back off._

Flashback

 _Within the Gryffindor dormitories well after curfew, Harry could feel fatigue setting in and decided it was time to give himself a break from practising a magic he hadn't touched all year. He'd seen the benefits of having an unsuspecting disguise and was determined to succeed. McGonagal sure as hell gave him a surprise in first year; and the revelations of Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and their forms drove home just how useful such a skill was. No one knew what he was up to. Sirius was in hiding, Ron was a loose cannon with secrets, and Hermione would ram the laws about animagi down his throat, scolding him for not seeking help or daring to try in the first place._

 _Willing the feathers that were his hand to return to normal, he opened the drawn curtains and buried the book on animagus transformations deep within his trunk before settling back onto his bed. Despite the exhaustion, his mind was running a million kilometres an hour making Harry too restless to sleep._

 _Glancing at his now completely human hand, Harry sighed in disappointment; after discovering and copying the animagus text in the library after Sirius' escape last year he'd hoped at the time to have made decent progress by now. However, given the insanity of fourth year, Harry had to concede he'd been too busy trying to survive Hogwarts and its perils once again. He hadn't worked on it at all this year._

 _Giving up with the failure of sleep, he went down to the common room and seated himself in front of the fire, staring at it while deep in thought. A shuffle to his left caught his attention. Hermione was seated in one of the armchairs and looking at him expectedly._

 _"Hermione? What are you doing down here?"_

 _"I knew you would be here eventually."_

 _"So you stayed here all night?"_

 _"You need to talk to someone, Harry. It isn't healthy to hide your problems," she began in a tone that always managed to get under his skin._

 _Harry fought the urge to give her an eye-roll. He'd been there and done this before; today, as a matter of fact. And every other day. A phrase that served as the catalyst to their friendship repeated itself in his head in Ron's voice._ "She's a nightmare, honestly. No wonder she hasn't got any friends."

 _Self-disgust and guilt flooded his mind for having such a thought about someone that had been by his side every year. Especially when Ron was showing the traits of a glory hound after Harry's name was spat out of that infernal goblet. Ron's remark did have merit, though; Hermione barely spoke to the other Gryffindors, and more often than not was by his or Ron's side throughout the time they'd attended Hogwarts._ Did she have others? Hopefully. She hasn't had it easy on the social front.

 _"Harry," she sympathetically murmured, resting a hand on his knee as she watched his expression. "Cedric's death was not your fault. Why do you still blame yourself? We've been through this."_

 _He couldn't hold back the snort. "Yeah, I know. A million times," he replied irritably, pushing her hand onto her own knee._

 _"You can't bury your head in the sand and refuse to hear the truth, Harry. The only person at fault is Wormtail. He cast the killing curse, not you."_

I really don't want to have a fight about this again. "Not _now, Hermione."_

 _She huffed beside him and turned to face him completely. "Yes now," she pushed. "The train home is tomorrow and hardly the place to discuss it. An empty common room at such a late hour is the best available to you. If you don't discuss it, you'll get it deeper into your head that Cedric died because of you while at the Dursleys. I know you. You blame yourself that Snuffles still has to hide. You did it last summer as well."_

 _Harry had to admit that she was right about Sirius, he did feel a degree of guilt but not as much as she seemed convinced of. It was the Ministry's incompetence that Sirius had to hide. "You've been prying enough already, Hermione. Today, in fact, and every other day since the Third Task," he retorted in frustration._ Alright, that was a bit low. _Taking a breathe, he tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Will you please give it a rest, Hermione? It isn't exactly great to be reminded of his death all the time."_

 _His response only ruffled her feathers more, making Harry want to facepalm. She had that set look about her only hardened briefly before softening. "I push for a reason, Harry. Not because I'm a shallow gossip like Parvati and Lavender," she reasoned, seeming to be giving him a little space on the matter before proving him with a resolute look. "It's for your own good," the brightest witch of their age stated with conviction._

 _Something within him snapped. More and more people seemed to think they knew what he needed better than he did. He really tried to end it before things got ugly, but it looked as though she wasn't going to let it go. Rising to his feet, he glared. "Well guess what, Hermione. I'm pushing back, and the answer's 'No'._ Accio _cloak,_ Accio _map!"_

 _The witch jumped to her feet, but Harry snatched the map out of the air and stuck it into his jeans pocket. The cloak going into his robe pocket. "Where are you going?" she demanded, marching towards him to close the gap. "You can't avoid the truth forever. Let me help you."_

 _Turning around without giving her a second glance, he took quick strides to the portrait hole. "Goodnight, Hermione," he replied tersely. Aware she would try to catch him, he threw the cloak on and left. Guilt welled within him for blowing up at her like that, with a tinge of regret. Sometimes she honestly knew how to push his buttons about these things._

Flashback end

"Great Harry Potter, sir."

Flinching in surprise, he turned around from the railing of the Astronomy Tower to see Dobby in the centre of the tower and released the breath he'd unknowingly held. "Dobby, what are you doing here?"

"To make sure you's are safe, sir."

Looking at the railing which he still held, Harry was fast to let go. "I wasn't about to-"

"Dobby knows that Great Harry Potter, sir. Harry Potter is too noble, too brave. Dobby only wants Great Harry Potter sir to be _safe_ ," the house-elf sincerely explained, looking a little hurt when an involuntary scoff escaped Harry before he looked at the Scottish Highlands once more.

 _A fat lot of good that did. Safe. Yeah right, and Voldemort will turn himself in and leave me alone for once. He's constantly after me._

The wave of an epiphany made Harry grow stiff, before turning around to the misguided but pure-hearted elf. "He's constantly after me," the wizard muttered to himself, unnerved that he was clearly missing something.

"Great Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby questioned, snapping Harry out of his thoughts and the little creature's caring gaze almost undid Harry's composure. Dobby, not seeming to notice, toddled over to Harry's side and looked up in concern with his yellow tennis ball eyes.

"Why is he after me, Dobby?" Harry said more to himself than the elf as he sat on the floor.

At the touch of the little hand on his shoulder, Harry looked up tiredly. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is afraid of the Great Harry Potter, sir. And Dobby will do anything to protect Great Harry Potter sir, if Great Harry Potter sir wants Dobby."

 _Dobby wants to protect me? Well, that's nothing new._

Out of boredom, he decided to humor the elf by tiredly replying in third person. "Great Harry Potter does Dobby." For a moment, he felt alerted as though ice cold water pulsed from his middle but it was gone before he had long to think about it. "Why does he fear me more than others, Dobby? I _was_ an infant. I am a _teenager_. Dumbledore is far wiser than I am. Why didn't they use a stronger person's blood that night?"

All of the mounting questions were giving him a headache that piled on top of his fatigued mind and nearly missed the answer. " – Potter, sir is special," the elf spoke solemnly with an undertone of joy

 _More half answers._ "Will someone tell me the truth? Why am I special?!"

"Yes, Master Great Harry Potter sir. Dobby will always tell Master Great Harry Potter sir the truth, but Dobby does not know the answer to why. Bad Dobby! Bad! Bad, Dobby, failing master!"

"Dobby, stop!" His mind finally caught up to his hearing. _Master?!_ Whipping his head to meet Dobby's eyes Harry narrowed his own. "Dobby…What did you do? Why are you calling me your master?"

The elf cowed under his sharp stare and backed away a step. Seeing Dobby's reaction made Harry feel awful; so he reined in his temper for the moment not wanting a friend to fear him. "Master Great Harry Potter sir is Dobby's new master. Dobby asked if Great Harry Potter sir wants Dobby; Master said Great Harry Potter does."

 _I've been tricked by a house-elf…Wait until Hermione gets wind of this…_

Looking to the elf in confusion, Harry tilted his head. "Why Dobby? I thought you liked being free?"

"Dobby is weak with no master. Master Great Harry Potter sir is kind and a friend."

Too tired to fight this new development, Harry rested his head against the pillar and pinched his nose before feeling a yawn escape him again and closed his eyes. "Dobby…I'm too tired to walk or discuss this right now. And I'm not going back to Gryffindor Tower, I'm not arguing with Hermione about Cedric again. Will you make sure I don't catch a cold here?"

"Yes, Master Great Harry Potter sir. Dobby will protect his new master. Dobby will take Master Great Harry Potter sir to a safe place."

"Dobby?"

"Yes, Master Great Harry Potter sir?"

"I won't order you, Dobby. I never will, but don't call me 'Master Great Harry Potter sir'. Something shorter, please?" he muttered, hoping the elf would at least give him that small piece of mind. Five words for one name was too much.

"Dobby will, Master Harry Potter sir," the loyal elf amended as Harry was drifting off to sleep.

 _It'll have to do._

Waking up with the feeling of a mattress and pillow underneath him, Harry didn't dare stir until the fog on his mind lifted.

Fighting with Hermione.

Astronomy Tower.

Dobby.

Epiphany.

Dobby's new master.

Slowly opening his eyes he looked everywhere and found himself alone in an unfamiliar but welcoming room with its warm colours. Rising to his feet and seeing he was still wearing his school robes, albeit rumpled from being slept in, he took in the details as he wandered around. It had a Gryffindor-esque factor to it, but he knew for certain it wasn't the common room he'd spent a good part of the last four years in.

" _Tempus._ " 6.00am

 _Strange. Shouldn't I be a fatigued wreck?_

"Dobby."

The house elf appeared in front of him with a pop. "Master Harry Potter sir. What does master need?"

Looking around the room and trying to make sense of it, he gave up after a moment and seeing Dobby's anxiety. "Where are we?"

"The special room in Hogwarts, Harry Potter sir."

Relieved that he was still in Hogwarts and wouldn't miss the train, Harry nodded. "Could you bring me some breakfast from the kitchens please, Dobby?"

Dobby was all too happy to help. "Of course, Master Harry Potter sir," he replied and popped away again.

 _I'm going to have to get used to that. Dobby would be distraught if I freed him._

Sitting back down on the inviting couch, Harry took off his robe and focussed on his arm, watching as it grew the feathers again. Reverting back and trying again, he watched as it back a little more like a wing each time. Relieved that he'd retained the progress made over the summer Harry looked to his other arm and did the same; sprouting feathers and watching his left arm became a wing.

Driven by the success, he transformed them back, but one at a time out of fear of messing it up. Splitting his focus wasn't something he'd dared trying just yet and perhaps for a while. _Might be best to have Sirius with me in case I mess it up._

Glad he hadn't lost what little progress he'd made during the summer, he took off his shoes and tried a limb he hadn't attempted yet. One at a time, just as he had done with his arms, he witnessed one leg recede in size but it didn't quite look right. A shrunken human leg instead of the avian leg he'd been aiming for. Feeling more than watching as his leg returned to normal, frustration welled within Harry, so he resisted the idea of trying further.

Tattered joggers on his feet once more, he finally paid attention to his surrounding and noticed that apart from the small differences and the absence of a Hermione waiting to grill him for staying out after curfew all night, anyone could have mistaken it for the Gryffindor common room.

 _Hermione. Cedric. Pettigrew. Pettigrew killed him. What I wouldn't give to make that coward pay._

The red and gold disappeared and were soon replaced with grey, the room becoming rectangular and bare. A familiar pattering sounded within the room and Harry immediately drew his wand before training his eyes on a rat running around the room.

The reaction was instinctive; he'd studied the spell persistently ever since that night in third year in hope of seeing the traitor and catching him, for Harry had never forgiven himself since the traitor's escape.

" _Homorphus_!"

 _How did_ Wormtail _become an animagus when McGonagal said he wasn't very talented? She said it herself in The Three Broomsticks._

The spell struck and that fat rat grew into the man he'd developed a deep hatred for. Enraged by the reminder of what had transpired in the Riddle Manor graveyard, Harry unleashed a torrent of spells before the man could cast his own. Pettigrew didn't prove to be much of a challenge and was soon battered by Harry's anger; now a whimpering mass at his feet.

"Pl-please, Harry…don't kill me. Have mercy! Th that's not what your father-"

 _My parents would be alive if it wasn't for him!_ "Shut up, Wormtail! _Stupify_!"

The spell would have struck, however, Wormtail was replaced by an ornate device he hadn't seen since the first year of his magical life. Ducking the rebounding spell, Harry paid further attention to detail. This was either a good fake or the real thing. Encased in a golden frame the size of a broad doorframe was a mirror he'd long believed to have been destroyed.

Drawn to it by memories and knowledge of what he would see, all thoughts of revenge and hatred became unimportant and faded away. Taking cautious steps, Harry watched with bittersweet enthusiasm as two familiar people came into view.

Instead of eleven, he was fourteen in the mirror. His mother and father seemed to look a little older this time as well. Harry swallowed at the harsh reminder of what he'd been robbed of for so many years, and more years to come. The pain was more than he'd expected it to be. In first year he was glad to finally have a face to put to their names, but now in fourth year there were many experiences he couldn't share with them. And just like last time he saw his mother's hand on his reflection's shoulder attempting to sooth him, but feeling nothing on his own made the situation all the more real. And just like last time he couldn't resist the thought of reaching out with the hope that it wasn't an illusion.

It seemed to take a millennium, a tearing sensation in his torso where it had been cold last night, and several strangely necessary steps before finally touching the pane of glass drove the truth home as though he'd received a bludger to his stomach. Closing his eyes and backing away he fled the room.

Pushing the single door open, Harry took out the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned with his wand against the parchment. From the sunlight peeking in through the windows, he skipped looking at the dungeons completely and searched until finding himself alone in a corridor on the seventh floor. "Mischief managed."

Stashing the map into his pocket and pulled out the cloak, he threw it over himself and ventured down towards the kitchens, practicing his arms once again as he slowly strode in the direction of the kitchens.

 _Where is Dobby anyway? House elves fall over themselves to please their masters. I guess Dobby is a strange one, and I am a strange master, I suppose._

Paying little attention to the presence of other students, Harry ceased the self-transfiguration and nimbly dodged bumping into anyone. After the row between Hermione and himself last night, and Ron's struggles to mediate, he wasn't really in the mood to see them. His trunk was packed, so was Ron's, thanks to the nagging from their bookworm friend. A bit of food and Hogsmeade station was all he needed to handle. " _Tempus_. 8.45? The train!"

Abandoning the intention of eating, Merlin knew he could deal with it, Harry spun on his heel and raced for the train. It was going to be tight since he was on the wrong side of the castle and needed to get to Hogsmeade before he was left behind. The sprint to Hogsmeade station had Harry utterly puffed by the end of it, but it thankfully paid off. He was relieved he had made it, irritating at least one prefect by his last minute dash onto the Hogwarts Express. Maybe they were Head Boy and Girl, but he couldn't care less at the moment. Settling in a compartment in the final carriage of the train, Harry remained undisturbed and it gave him time to reflect on his school years.

First year, in retrospect, had been a disaster. Sure, he made friends and enjoyed learning about this new magical haven from the Dursleys, but the fact that the Philosopher's Stone has been so accessible by three mere first years didn't sit right with him. Why hadn't it been in a high-security vault in the depths of Gringotts? The breached vault had been around the same security as his vault – which had little protections from thievery. Not to mention Quirrell. How Dumbledore didn't see through that garlic wreaking turban was beyond him. _It's as if…No! He wouldn't do that, right?_

Second year wasn't an invited problem like the Philosopher's Stone. It just wasn't well dealt with, and Defence Against the Dark Arts was a waste of time. _Don't get me started on bloody Lockhart – anyone with a brain would have seen through that façade._

Third year, caused by a Ministry balls-up, but at least Professor Lupin had been decent. And finally having someone who cared about him on a paternal level.

Fourth year, Ministry trying to look good but exploited by Voldemort and Wormtail, 'Professor Moody' did the job well but was out for his blood. Crouch Jr got the kiss. Cedric dead. Voldemort alive. _What a bloody mess._

 _Ron and his damn jealousy. When is he going to grip the fact we're from two financially different families? It's been four years. I saw the way he frowned at my gear when he thought I wasn't looking, even after the First Task._

 _Hermione on the other hand, while helpful for the Tournament, saw fit to sticky-beak into every facet of my life; Dursleys included. Not a single letter from Sirius without her needing to know the content, I get few enough of them as it is. I don't go asking about her letters. Then the Third Task and she's a complete nag about my nightmares and needing to seek help or talk to her all the time. What am I? A mystery to solve? A project to get an O on?_

Disturbed by the fact he was having these thoughts about his two and only friends, Harry locked the door with _Colloportus_ and transfigured the windows to an opaque white. _I need to think…_

When the train finally slowed to a halt, Harry reversed the spells but stayed back until the station was at least half empty. Ever since he uttered the words 'Voldemort's back', he'd been subjected to whispers behind his back once again. Not a foreign concept, that's for sure. The parseltongue experience had taught him to ignore gossips, but not the accusation of being a liar. He could have sworn he saw his friends leaving the station without a backward glance and honestly didn't know what to make of it. Ron could hold a grudge, but for Hermione to not seek him out was just plain odd.

Searching the train for his trunk had been something else, though. Dudley stealing from him was one thing, but stealing by witches or wizards in control of their bodies was a new one. After half an hour, the silence of 9¾ was making his edgy. Harry alone while Voldemort was on the loose, not a good combination.

 _Good grief, Harry. Are you a wizard or not?_

Drawing his wand, Harry got off the train and spun around. "Accio trunk!"

Nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered before trying again. The results were the same. "This is ridiculous," he grumbled to himself. "I better check the other side. The Dursleys would have presumed me dead and left for all they care." Leaving the platform with a quick gait, he halted just before going through the pillar. Taking out his invisibility cloak and keeping his wand handy, he went through and was both shocked and not shocked by the result.

No Dursleys.

Going back onto the platform and did the only thing he could think of at this point aside from walking the streets alone because he had no money for the Knight Bus. "Dobby!"

The little creature he'd befriended appeared immediately, but something didn't seem right. Dobby was confused, to say the least. _Well, he responded right? Might as well ask for his help._

"Could you take me to Diagon Alley please?"

The elf said nothing but extended a hand out just the same, and within moments the strange pair was in the centre of the wizard shopping district.

"Dobby? You're normally happy to see me. What's wrong?"

"Who summoned, Dobby?"

Harry's jaw dropped in shock. "You don't remember me?"

The elf shook his head with strong resolve, effectively flapping his batty ears and drawing the attention of a few in the crowd. "Yous that Potter boy."

"Could you not tell anyone you helped me?" he requested politely, not taking any chances. The confused elf nodded without taking his eyes off Harry. "Well…thank you for your help," Harry spoke awkwardly, running through ideas of what to do next in the insane situation. It was only when Dobby gasped that Harry realised there was going to be unwanted drama. "Dobby! Don't cry. Please!" Looking around desperately, he saw their conversation was making a noticed commotion.

"Thank Dobby?! No one ever thanks Dobby!" the elf wailed into his dirty pillowcase.

Internally groaning, the wizard prayed this would be over soon. "Dobby, shush. Be quiet," Harry asserted, hating the fact he had to. Thankfully the little creature blew into his pillowcase and said nothing else. "Go."

The elf nodded and disappeared with a pop.

Harry made for the Leaky Cauldron and could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Currently, his mind had been blown more times than desirable and didn't know what the hell was going on and needed information before making his next move. Eyes were following his every move, he could tell but ignored it just the same. In retrospect, he was thankful that Dudley and the gang gave him grief in school. _If you want to hide, don't make it obvious you're trying to._

Once within the pub, he released a breath and forced himself to relax or risk suspicion from the regulars. Going over to one of the tables, the young wizard sat himself down and wait at least a minute before reaching for the Daily Prophet dismissively.

Surprisingly there wasn't any slander as he'd expected on the front page. Instead, there were warnings about various magical creatures and how to escape them, but that wasn't all. Reading the article carefully, he noticed the writer's voice wasn't the same sensationalised rubbish he was used to. The phrasing sounded like it was old news. Bothered by it, he went through the rest of the normally upbeat newspaper, but the results weren't much different. The classifieds had ads for warding services and all kinds of protection from one thing or another.

This wasn't the newspaper he knew.

 _Looks like I'm going to the Dursleys again. Great._

 _What needs doing?_

 _Get some money. Preferably get a new key._

 _Clothes for blending in._

 _Send a letter for help._

 _Wait a bit._

 _Check the Dursleys._

It was tempting to continue in his attempt to get some sort of bearings, but if money was a problem step two would never fly. Leaving the pub and opening the archway for Diagon Alley. Harry, unnerved by all of the oddities, didn't dawdle making his way to the pristine white building up ahead. Many things weren't adding up and he needed money before he could plan to do anything. Little Whinging was quite a trek from London and with all of the apparent creatures on the loose he didn't want to take too many risks unless necessary. He didn't need to feel the twinging of his newest scar to remind him that Voldemort was out there and after him.

Entering the doors of Gringotts bank, he lined up for the next teller. He had no key on him, but obtaining a new one needed an inheritance test. Having no idea how much it would cost, probably a few knuts or a sickle, Harry left the bank. If there was nothing for him to claim at the bank then he'd be in trouble with the goblins for not being able to pay the fee. If there was one thing that Binns taught him in all his years of monotone rambling it was this; you don't want to mess with a goblin.

Sighing in frustration at this new predicament, he seated himself at a table outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and watched the shoppers. If he wasn't already toeing the line with underage magic with the Ministry, summoning a little money to cover that inheritance fee would have been an option, as wrong as it would be to do so. He'd happily tell the Ministry where to stick their faulty Trace sensors if it wouldn't risk getting his wand snapped. Having a wand would be essential no matter where he was and he didn't have a good track record with the Ministry at the moment. Running a hand through his hair he had to muffle a groan.

 _Great. I'm basically stranded here._

Leaning back in the seat, Harry raked his brain for ideas coming up with some but disposing of them for one reason or another.

 _Knight Bus? No money._

 _Muggle orphanage? No, not protected from Voldemort etc in the muggle world._

 _Letter? No, no money you idiot. And who would you write to? No one's contacted me. Something's up._

 _Pickpocket to pay the inheritance test? Tempting, but if I screw up I'll get arrested. Bad outcome._

 _Work for board? Why would Tom want a fourteen-year-old waiting on his customers? He's got staff already._

 _Dumbledore? Has he forgotten me just like Dobby? Ok, a contingency then._

 _Floo to the Ministry?_

"Maybe..," he murmured to himself, shivering a little but brushing it off. "What will I do when I get there? Fudge isn't exactly a friend right now."

 _There's got to be a law department right? Police help lost kids out. What's the equivalent? Ron said it at the welcoming feast. Or was it Dean or Seamus? Gah, who cares? Dark wizard catcher? The term you idiot, not a description._

"Aw, Merlin…"

 _Hang on. Aw, War, Ror. Auror!_

Relieved to at least know the term, Harry rose from the seat and strode back to the Leaky Cauldron. Feeling exposed as the alley was beginning to fall quiet in the early hours of the evening, he soon re-entered the pub but didn't give pause until he was at the fireplace. Taking a handful of the powder and throwing it into the fire without hesitation he strode into the fire and uttered "Ministry of Magic."

The nauseating experience was brief and within moments he was leaning against the nearest column, fingers against his temples before realising he was standing up with no ash on his shirt. "Huh, toss powder in then walk in. I'll keep that in mind."

The sight before him was grand with a clear interest in impressing the visitors. It looked almost endless with fireplace after fireplace in two lines as far as the eye could see, a tiled floor for the whole area, a golden statue of a wizard being stared a with adoration by a centaur, goblin and house elf. Going over to a booth with an utterly bored witch, Harry caught sight of a sign telling him what to do. "Good afternoon, I'd like to check in?" he spoke in question, hoping to have done it right as he handed over his wand, feeling naked for a moment until she took it off a device and returned it.

"Have a good visit, Mr Potter," she replied in monotone before looking at a crossword.

Not sure what to do next, he hesitated but bit the hex. "Excuse me, could you direct me to the Auror department?"

The blonde looked up with a confused expression. "I don't see why you'd need me to Mr Potter, but I'll humour you. Go to the elevators, press two for Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you'll find it easily enough. Anything else, Potter?"

Surprised by the apparent ease he was spoken to with, Harry blinked and nodded. "That's it. Thanks for the help." The woman nodded and went back to her crossword. As he wandered over to the elevators Harry thought about the manner she'd spoken and helped out and it seemed rather odd. _Shouldn't the Minister hate my guts right now, and by extension the ministry? Hmm, not necessarily, Mr Weasley doesn't take me for a liar. But then again, he's my best mate's dad. So would it count?_

Aware he was going to earn himself a headache, he counted to twenty in his head and focussed. He's in the ministry now, on the way to the desired floor - as jarring as it was, and probably next to no one there.

 _If the place is empty I guess I could snoop around. I'd kill to pinch an apple right now._

Upon exiting the elevator the sight before him was anything but desolate. It was a hive of activity. Witches and wizards in various uniforms were moving from cubicles to offices, bearing paperwork, some were leaving via a fireplace near the elevator.

The liveliness of the department mentally threw Harry off balance and he almost got knocked over by a witch dashing for the fireplace. Banking on the department being silent hadn't paid off in the slightest.

 _Oh shit, Mr Weasley's desk then. Now where is that?_

Staying on the fringes of the office under his cloak, Harry eventually found himself Mr Weasley's and happily dropped into the vacant seat in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. Burying his cloak within his robe, he was a prime exhibition of stress. Grabbing a piece of parchment and wetting a quill, he wrote down what he knew.

Trunk stolen; vault key included.

No Hedwig.

No money.

No communication.

No Dursleys. (Not surprising)

Dobby's forgotten me but obeys me.

Ron and Hermione left the platform without a glance.

Ministry receptionist was polite. Not disdain etc.

Dangerous creatures on the loose.

Need a safe place.

Grabbing a new piece, he set the first parchment aside and wet the quill again.

Hogwarts – Closed for break

4 Privet Drive – No means of travel

He was about to write 'The Burrow', but if everything so far since leaving Hogwarts held true, then the Weasley home he'd come to love wasn't an option. That would then apply to Privet Drive too in the worst case scenario. _Apart from being captured by Voldemort or arrested for some atrocity, I don't know how this_ can _get worse._

Looking back at the second list, he came to a realisation and made an adjustment.

4 Privet Drive – XNo means of travelX – Dobby apparating

Putting down the quill, and leaning back with a sigh of relief, Harry grabbed both pieces of parchment, slipped on the cloak and strode out of the DMLE with his dreaded childhood home in mind.

As he made for the fireplaces in the atrium of the ministry, Harry couldn't throw the feeling that he was being followed. Lightening his footsteps on the tiled floor and straining to hear any clue, everything he tried was coming up empty. There was no evidence someone was behind him but with magic you couldn't solely rely on your senses to know the truth.

There was a lot of temptation to quicken his pace. However, to do so would only give himself away. But to who? Harry didn't have a clue aside from suspecting a Death Eater, making his right hand twitch in anticipation of an attack. Keeping himself in check and slipping his hand around his wand within his jeans pocket, the young wizard maintained his 'got something to do but not urgent' pace and flooed to The Leaky Cauldron. Making for the exit to Charing Cross Road, Harry stepped outside and threw on his cloak and waited within the Notice-Me-Not charmed perimeter for his tail.

Noting the taxis driving past, Harry acted on impulse by ripping off his cloak, stepped out of the magic concealing The Leaky Cauldron and hailed an approaching one. "Taxi!"

A driver pulled onto the shoulder of the road and gestured for him to get in. Needing no second hint, Harry got in and made sure his cloak was within easy reach for later. "Where to, lad?"

Without preamble, he rattled off the address. "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," he instructed, looking out the window while making sure his gripped wand was concealed under the cloak. "Can we go?"

That earned him a look, but he could feel the taxi pull away from the magical pub and for that he was glad. "Not in a spot of trouble, are you?" the driver remarked before focussing on the road once more.

"Does a stalker count?" he replied, beginning to relax as The Leaky Cauldron left his sight.

The driver gave a hearty laugh. "Girlfriend didn't like the breakup, eh?"

That scenario for a cover story hadn't occurred to him but it sounded good. "Yeah, she doesn't take no for an answer apparently," he replied, the row with Hermione still fresh on his mind.

The middle-aged man chuckled and accelerated. "Righto, I'll get you home quick. Name's Ed, by the way."

And that was the last thing the driver said before humming to music on the radio. Glad for the peace, Harry looked down at his lap where his cloak rested and frowned with a little guilt. It was necessary and he didn't really have a choice at the moment; elf apparation would have been a way to get to Privet Drive but there was one small problem. A forgetful Dobby was unlikely to remember where he lived. And honestly, having roughly an hour to think about his next plan was a nice breather from the 'seat-of-his-pants' planning done so far.

In retrospect, even if he had access to the money necessary for booking a room at The Leaky Cauldron it would have been less than strategic. Too much exposure to the public eye. This made him straighten up a little; one less place to stay. And if Privet Drive doesn't work he'd need somewhere else to go. Hogwarts should be an option if all else fails, but he didn't want to turn up like a lost puppy without having some facts about this weird situation to work with. He'd made a lot of plans on the fly in the past and it normally worked, but something this extensive needed more than mediocre thinking about.

For the same reason, booking a room at The Three Broomsticks was out of the question, but Hogsmeade was closer to Hogwarts, and by extension Dumbledore. Harry didn't know how tight Hogwarts security was over the break but he imagined that if he absolutely had to, there should be a few ways in. Honeydukes cellar had been useful in third year; The Shrieking Shack probably had a way in, and its tunnel led to the grounds of Hogwarts.

 _That thing is probably in a right state, but it's got a bed, four walls, a roof, and Hogwarts' wards are a stone's throw away. And I'm not going to turn my nose up at that._

Now that he had a contingency plan if all went pear-shaped at Privet Drive, he could breathe easier and think beyond where he would hide from Voldemort, such as gathering information when you're dead broke. Dobby would know where Hogsmeade was and he could make his way to the Shack from there. If something failed there, then he could bolt to Hogwarts and Hagrid's hut was close to the Whomping Willow if he needed help getting into the castle.

A shriek pulled Harry from his thoughts, and he was quick to recognise the park where the commotion had come from. "Excuse me, sir? Could you pull over?" he requested, discreetly pulling the cloak onto his back.

The taxi came to a stop on the corner of Magnolia Cresent. "Sure, son," Ed began as Harry slipped the cloak on. Without looking back, he fled. "That'll be- Oi, get back here!"

 _Sorry, Ed._

Dashing into the alleyway, watching as the driver looked around trying to find him and throwing his hat on the ground in frustration, Harry let out a breath when the taxi pulled away. Taking off the cloak and walking through the alleyway to the local park, he stuffed his hands into his pockets moodily as he wondered what he was going to say to Aunt Petunia. _'Hi, Aunt Petunia, have you forgotten me too?'_

Snorting at the thought and shaking his head, the lone wizard reached the park and a scene that wasn't really a surprise to him. It was an expected really. Not far away was his whale of a cousin and his four buddies picking on a teen a year younger than him, who'd dared to stay out in Dudley's 'territory' after dark. That just made his blood boil, but putting a lid on it Harry snuck up on their flank. "Five against one? Very _brave_ of you, Duddikins, my _dear_ cousin," he pointed out, startling the hell out of the whale.

The group looked surprised at his intrusion, but Harry waltzed up to Dudley, snatched the considerable wad of money out of his hand and gave it back to the girl. It seemed like a lot for one person though and probably wasn't all hers. "Get out of here. It'll get ugly."

"Thank you," she uttered softly, and without hesitation bolted out of the park but strangely lingered at the mouth of the alleyway.

Dudley and his gang looked gobsmacked at Harry's gall, making him smirk. "Shut that gob of yours, Dudley, or you'll swallow flies," he pointed out, but keeping himself between the five boys and the alleyway in case he needed it.

"Who're you, short-arse?"

 _Bollocks._

"Your first cousin on the _freak_ side of the family. Harry. Any bells ringing, Dudley?" he remarked, stressing the clue about magic. As much as he loathed his cousin, Harry was hoping for something, anything, that was familiar while the rest of the world was upside down.

The whale backed away a half step and chose to stare at him. "Who?" he spoke in confusion with an increasingly clear scowl. "You're from their lot," he remarked irritably, clear restraining himself from instigating something he believed he couldn't win. Dudley's glare, however, lacked familiarity so Harry took his cue to leave and didn't waste time, soon catching up with that girl by the alleyway. Harry still had the Trace and couldn't fight despite the illusion he'd given that despicable whale.

 _At least he knows about magic, but he doesn't seem to remember me. Interesting. But now what?_

"Thank you, Harry," the thirteen-year-old gratefully spoke out of the blue, startling Harry enough that he jumped away instinctively and almost drew his wand, which he gripped within his jeans pocket. "You're so jumpy," she commented with an undertone of interest. "Almost lost looking even."

Keeping his guard up, he nodded. "Uh yeah, um?"

"Jennifer," she provided, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. "So why are you lost?"

Harry was quiet for a moment and Jennifer looked as though she was about to apologise when he gave the first lie he could think of that was convincing. "I was kicked out of home." _Probably would have been years ago if it hadn't been for Dumbledore. Why'd he want me there anyway?_ While he had lied it wasn't as though they'd let him in. If his childhood tormentor had no memory, Harry highly doubted Aunt Petunia would remember the nephew she loathed either.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," she sympathised before resting a hand on his shoulder, the physical contact made him flinch out of habit, which led to Jennifer's grimace before she removed her hand. "I see. Things weren't right there, were they?"

"It never was," he mumbled, looking over at the raven-haired girl who was starting to look cold. As they exited the alleyway, Harry kept an eye out for Ed and his taxi, but to his relief, the driver wasn't in sight. "It was a hate-hate relationship no matter how you looked at it. All three of them really. I thought my name was 'Freak' until I was five and told differently at primary school."

The conversation died out after that, and Jennifer was looking thoughtful as they walked in silence. Dismissing the idea of conversation for the moment Harry was gladly focussing on his surroundings. If the creature article in the Daily Prophet had any grain of truth in it, lingering outside at late hours wasn't the smartest thing to do right now.

Following the year-younger girl for a while, since he had nothing better to do, Harry noticed she'd slowed and was standing outside one of the many duplicated houses. Backing away and turning to leave, he faltered when he heard Jennifer's nearing footsteps on the grass. "Wait." Half turning back, he noticed she was mustering herself up to say something. "Do you need somewhere to stay for a while?" Raising his eyebrow at the suggestion, he watched as Jennifer stammered for a moment. "U-until you're back on your feet, of course."

"What of your parents?" Harry pointed out, trying to weigh the pros and cons quickly before she withdrew the offer. "I don't think they'd want a run-away guy like me in the same house as you. No offense."

"None taken. Dad's overseas for work, so you don't have to worry about him. My mother, she works two jobs and probably wouldn't notice if you're quiet," she explained, unlocking the door and gesturing for him to come in. "Besides, only a creep would come in without hesitation." Obliging her, he copied her behaviour within the house until they were seated in a vacant living room. "What's with the…robe? Is it a uniform?" she inquired, eyes on the Gryffindor patch. "And…it's summer."

 _Blast. Truth with lies in a cauldron, I guess._

"Yeah," he confirmed, fiddling with the mascot. "I go to a Scottish boarding school, so we need the layers up there. Break started not long ago and we go back September 1st." _Not bad, Harry. That_ was _the truth._

Jennifer looked mildly relieved at that, before noticing he'd seen the expression and becoming guilty. "I didn't mean-"

"No, it's okay," he interrupted, hand up to stop her. "I get it. Indebted to someone you just discovered is homeless. Feeling obliged to help, but don't know what you can do. A sense of responsibility to some degree," he elaborated, earning a weird look from the muggle girl.

"Pretty much," she nodded, looking at her lap in shame. "You're perceptive for a boy. Most at my school can be pretty oblivious," she remarked as she got up and wandered into the kitchen. A moment later she whipped around with her eyes wide. "I'm sorry –" she began to apologise before Harry's chuckled cut her off. "How can you laugh and be so calm around me after getting kicked out?" Jennifer asked with an expression of disbelief. "I'd be completely losing it right now." The muggle continued gathering food and piling it near the stove.

Before he could say anything his stomach made its emptiness known, embarrassing Harry in the process.

"Table for two," Jennifer chimed in jest, chuckling at Harry's blush. "At least I can help you with that," she remarked more to herself than Harry as she retrieved doubles for everything. "But seriously, how can you be keeping your cool about all this?"

Getting up from the couch, he joined her at the kitchen and proceeded to put his decent culinary skills to use. "In all honesty, you're the only thing making sense to me right now. Nothing odd happening like everything else." That earnt him a confused glance but he didn't let it stop him. "My only family kicked me out and pretends they don't remember me; my stuff and bank card were stolen on the train home; I've got a lunatic intent on killing me every year at school; a headmaster I don't know if I can trust right now; My friends left the station as though I don't exist, and they live in Crawley and Devon, so nowhere near here."

Reaching over and giving his shoulder a squeeze in sympathy. "Stay," she asserted, giving a stern look when he made to protest. "I mean it, Harry. I'd say Dudley Dursley is more likely to be an axe murderer than you are. Hell, you stood up for me for no reason when the odds were against you," Jennifer ranted while shaking her head and putting the meat on the grill. "How you got away without a scratch is a mystery, but the point is that if my home is the only thing keeping you sane then you're more than welcome to stay for a bit."

Looking to the determined girl, Harry nodded without saying a word and turned his focus onto their meal until it was ready. Mindlessly plating the food and handing a serving to the muggle. Following her lead, the pair ate at the table and Harry was thankful that she wasn't forcing him to speak, unlike someone he knew.

Now that he had a temporary roof over his head, he was intent on making the most of it. Summoning Dobby in front of Jennifer was out of the question for obvious reasons; he had no plan of breaking the Statute of Secrecy and earning a heavy fine he couldn't pay.

Aside from listening to Jennifer chatter about her day, and being shown the upstairs layout, Harry said very little while he mind was raging a silent storm of being freaked out. Running to Dumbledore was getting increasingly tempting, and he probably would have long before now if it hadn't been for him verbally making the admission of distrust regarding the man to Jennifer. Saying it made the issue seem just that bit more real, and he didn't like it one bit.

After a shower and putting his own clothes back on, despite Jennifer's insistence of putting something clean on, Harry thanked the girl for her hospitality and sat within the privacy of the guest room needing to gather his racing thoughts.

The night dragged on and the anticipated sounds of a vehicle implying the return of Jennifer's mother never came. Exiting his room, Harry followed the light coming from the living room to find Jennifer sketching on the couch and looked up at his approach. "Harry? I thought you went to bed," she commented, putting her pad aside and picking up a familiar pouch. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have this. And it's way more than just mine too. Half is yours by conquest or whatever," she gestured, a humoured expression at his readiness to object. "So I was thinking, if you will let someone else be chivalrous, we could go to London and hang out tomorrow."

 _Chivalrous._

 _Will I get her killed too?_

The muggle girl quickly adopted a look of concern. "Harry? What's the matter?"

Putting space between them by sitting on the couch she'd vacated, he looked up. "Someone good di-suffered because I was bloody chivalrous at school. He was an innocent."

Jennifer seemed to know he wanted a bit of room and remained where she was. "The lunatic, right?"

"Yeah, the lunatic," he replied with a humourless laugh. "If I hadn't insisted on fair play in a tournament Cedric would still be alive." Noticing his slip, his eyes shot up to Jennifer who wasn't surprised but nodded solemnly. "The lunatic, Tom Riddle, rigged the game to make sure I won, but after Cedric helped with a task I wanted to share the win. We'd helped each other during the tournament."

Harry could tell Jennifer was internally arguing with herself but remained standing where she was. "Did you make this Tom kill him, Harry?"

"No but-," he began, faltering when he realised she had a point but right now his mind didn't want to accept it.

"Survivor's guilt," she uttered softly from the other side of the room. "'What if?' 'I could have.' 'No, but'," Jennifer spoke as she sat on the floor. "They all drive people crazy unless that someone is ready to look back and remember what happened objectively." The muggle girl rose to her feet and hovered near the end of the couch. "If you ever want to tell me…," she hesitated, looking a little unsure of herself. "I, um, I will listen."

The house went awkwardly silent after that and after nodding in thanks he returned to his room while she continued scratching away at her pad on the couch. Walking into the room and sitting at the desk Harry decided to try putting a plan into motion. "Dobby," he whispered intently and a moment later witnessed the elf's appearance.

"Potter boy, summoned Dobby?" the beaten looking elf asked, keeping his eyes on the floor.

It didn't escape Harry's notice that the elf was looking a little worse for wear. "What happened?" he murmured, before getting an idea. "Is your master Nott?"

Head shake

"Avery?"

Another one.

"Crabbe?"

Nope.

"Goyle?"

Another head shake.

"Macnair?"

Dread was beginning to fill him as Harry one by one rattled off all of the Slytherin families he knew, refraining from suggesting the Malfoys if his gut instinct was right. Soon enough there was no one left but the Malfoys. "Alright, Dobby," Harry said to the beaten elf softly. "If you can do it without having to punish yourself, could you please repair the Shrieking Shack? I want to hide there as soon as possible, but don't neglect your master to do it. I don't want to see you with ironed hands again, alright?"

"Potter boy is truly kind," Dobby replied, reminding Harry out how Dobby used to act around him. "Anything else, Potter boy?"

"Call me, Harry," he suggested on an impulse. "And why do you respond to me saying your name? Don't you belong to someone else?"

"Dobby hears Harry Potter call so Dobby must answer, Harry Potter," Dobby spoke before disappearing with a pop.

Harry nostalgically smiled. _Same old, Dobby._

"What was that?"

Snapping his head up and looking at the door where Jennifer stood looking thoughtful, Harry gaped in shock that the whole thing must have been heard. "Jennifer, please. Let me explain!" he begged hurriedly but slowed when she sat on the bed in a cross-legged and expectant manner.

 _Blast. I have to tell her the truth now. Not like she would be believed anyway._

"There's a reason my relatives called me a freak," Harry started slowly, not wanting to scare her off with the more outlandish parts first. "There is another society within the one you know. One that defies the laws of physics. Every piece of fantasy fiction you've probably read would have a grain of truth to it."

"You're telling me there's a magical community hidden within England?" she guessed in bewilderment, eyes going wide when he nodded. "Teleportation, broomsticks, potions…dragons?" she finished with an undertone of worry, making him chuckle.

"There are reserves for dragons. Everyone would know about us if there weren't. Imagine the chaos they'd cause if they were loose?" he clarified rhetorically, hiding a smile at her sigh of relief. Moving onto more serious matters Harry scooted the wheeled chair towards the bed. "And I'd really appreciate it if you told no one. It's against the law to tell non-magical people about our world if they're not relatives. The Statute of Secrecy is what has kept us safe from those like puritans all these years."

"Can you show me something?"

The request made Harry caught him off guard. He wasn't prepared nor had the means to show. _Diagon Alley was a world of wonder when Hagrid took me there. But can she keep a secret?_ Bracing himself, he took a breath and slowly blinked. "I can't perform magic with my wand outside of school until I'm seventeen. The Ministry will snap it if I do."

"Oh…Can you do anything without it?"

"Not yet, I'm working on self-transformation but I can't do it completely yet," he apologised, guilt-ridden for having nothing to show for it. Biting his lip when two things came to mind, he threw caution to the wind. "Do you swear to not share anything magic related to anybody?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "You sure do take this seriously, don't you? And, Harry, who would believe me anyway?"

"Alright, alright. My world has been tipped on its head in the last twenty-four hours. Give me a break," he retorted, tipping his head back for a minute.

The muggle teen rocked on the bed and laughed. "Someone would think you've been plucked out of your world and shoved into another with the way you're acting," Jennifer suggested offhandedly, rolling on the bed in giggles.

Harry grew still at the offhanded remark and paled. "What?" It would make so much sense, but the idea was frightening. Shocking. No number of Voldemort encounters could have prepared him for the idea of it. It wasn't the 'fight for your life' kind of thing he was so used to but something completely different. _Is she right? Is she wrong? I don't know what to think anymore!_

Sitting upright, Jennifer got her laughter under control as she witnessed the colour leave his face. "I was joking, Harry. You know…Everything different to the way you know it?" she commented before shrugging. "What about shops? Can you show me a shopping district?"

"Never _ever_ joke about that, Jennifer," he firmly told her. "Yes there's magic, but somethings are taking it too far. Threatening to turn someone into a…ferret is fine, though." A hint of a wistful smile crept onto his face before shaking his head and focussing on the conversation at hand.

Jennifer had the decency to look apologetic but started to smirk. "Did you see someone turned into a ferret?" she asked, making him crack a smile, prompting her to fall into a bout of uncontrolled laughter. "Who?"

Leaning back and picturing it, he regaled the entire thing to the muggle. "- so, of course, the first thing coming out of his mouth after McGonagal reversed the spell was-." Clearing his throat he did his best Malfoy impression. "My father will hear about this!" he mimicked, having fun recounting the whole thing. Jennifer was in peals of laughter by this point, and the wizard chuckled at the sight, gladly escaping the crazy world waiting for him outside Jennifer's front door.

Watching the girl regain control, Harry realised how exhausted he was and made it over to the bed. "Oh boy," the muggle chuckled, getting off the bed. "If I didn't know he was such a pompous git, I'd feel sorry for Draco Malfoy. More stories tomorrow, yeah?" Jennifer asked as she stood in the doorway.

Harry nodded eagerly, feeling a wave of relief that tomorrow would have an element of normal. Even if it was just a muggle girl. "Oh yeah, definitely. Thanks for everything, Jennifer."

"No problem. And it's Jen," she dismissed as though it was nothing. "God, I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight. Or should I be saying 'Merlin'? Good night, Harry," Jennifer remarked good-naturedly, closing the door behind her.

"'Night Jen," he replied before succumbing to fatigue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

 **Heart's desire**

 **Chapter 2**

Slightly groggy and reaching to his right for his glasses, he fumbled for a moment before grasping the frame and sliding the battered things onto his nose to reveal an unfamiliar room. Not entirely sure where he was, the wizard slipped out of the foreign bed quietly and spotted his joggers on the floor before realising he'd slept in his day clothes. Suddenly memories started rushing back to him about nothing making sense, a trip to the ministry, taxi ride, Dudley, and finally Jennifer.

Not fond of the idea being caught off guard he took his wand off the bedside table and placed it on the ground next to his shoes as he knelt down to put them on. Finished within a few seconds, he crept out of the bedroom and downstairs where he could see Jennifer eating, bag under her eyes but looking full of life just the same. "Morning sleepyhead!" she called out with an undertone of excitement. "Mum's been and gone to her second job. Had no clue you were here," she explained while giving the cereal bowl a quick rinse. "I didn't know what you eat, so uh…What do you eat?"

"Oh, anything really," he replied with a shrug. An object came flying at him and he caught it out of reflex.

"Nice one, Harry," Jennifer remarked as he looked at the banana. "So, magical London?" she prompted, making for the front door.

The manner she was acting made him a little concerned. "Are you always this carefree, Jennifer?" Following her and getting out of the way so she could lock up he continued. "Dudley and his gang ran into you yesterday, and I'm a complete stranger," he pressed on as they walked to the station.

"Which is why I didn't sleep last night," she countered, gesturing for him to eat the piece of fruit. "It would have been dumb on my part, indebted or not."

 _Thank Merlin she has some degree of common sense._

The journey into London was awkwardly quiet, for neither of them seemed to know what to say. However, the silence was becoming unbearable when he noticed there was a middle aged man sitting nearby and watching them intently.

"Jen, any idea why-"

"No idea," she spoke quickly, but it didn't seem like a genuine answer to him. Nodding, Harry felt a little more respect for the girl at the clear precaution she'd taken for their trip.

Thinking how rotten his luck had been in life, he began mulling over every possible scenario and how to protect Jennifer from potential harm. He needed an escape plan for her should he get the slightest hint of trouble. She already knew about Dobby, so that was one. Creating a portkey would require his wand and it could be tracked, equalling trouble. Floo Network wasn't one either; Mr Weasley had temporarily hooked 4 Privet Drive up to the Floo Network, but Harry doubted it still was.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Jennifer interrupted his train of thought. "What's the name of the shops we're going to?" she asked with a slightly clearer tone.

He could see what she was doing and played along. "On Charing Cross Road, there's a door into The Leaky Cauldron, and through there is the entrance to Diagon Alley, the shopping district. You'll have to be with me to see the door into the pub, though. Very hard to find on your own."

Jennifer looked a little guilty. "Haha, you got me. Man, you're paranoid. Give me points for trying, though, Harry," she confessed, waving at the stranger. "Family friend, but what's got you bothered?"

Harry gave the girl a 'do you have to ask?' expression before indulging her. "Knowing my rotten luck, I was thinking of how to keep you safe in case-"

The raven muggle girl cut him off. "Do you have a 'protect everyone' thing?"

"Yeah. Or so I've been told," he replied dejectedly, wondering what to make of Jennifer. If he had to compare her to people he knew, it was as though she was a perceptive version of Ron who knew when to back off about something. _Well, so far anyway._ Looking to her he continued his explanation. "If something happens I'll summon Dobby and he will get you out of there quickly. He's always nearby." With the other muggle with nearby, he more or less had to speak vaguely or in code

Jennifer smiled knowingly and nodded before a light sparked in her eyes. "So what do you have in mind?" she asked with a pointed look at the money she'd given him. Money he'd snatched from Dudley, who'd stolen if from several kids.

"Inheritance test at the bank; hopefully I'm entitled to something. A few things so I can communicate with friends. Everything else depends on how the inheritance test goes."

The rest of the train ride was in silence as Harry went over things in his head. _Dobby's probably got the Shrieking Shack in a decent condition by now; I need to find out what Voldemort's up to; And why he's after me, but how?_ Looking to Jennifer, he had an idea. "Jennifer?"

She seemed to pick up on his mood after a moment of staring. "What on your mind?"

"From stories you've read-." Her eyes lit up at the subtle clue. "-why was a good guy randomly chased by a bad guy?" The older muggle didn't say anything but was clearly interested in where this was going. _He's no slouch apparently._

"Um…That's a good one. Well, there's the obvious things; revenge, money, greed, territory. Uh, maybe fear?"

 _Fear? Hm, that's the only thing fitting me right now, but fear of a baby? Sounds a bit ridiculous._ "What about fear of someone really young, like a baby?"

"Predictions, like soothsayers and fortune tellers, I guess," she shrugged, making him think of divination and the prediction about Wormtail and Voldemort in third year by Trelawney. Jennifer didn't seem to notice his frozen expression as she went on. "I haven't read anything about a baby being feared, but good guys who did nothing to the bad guy became powerful protagonists later who defeated the antagonist."

 _Merlin's saggy left…_

"Harry? You're pale again," Jennifer pointed out, gripping his shoulders lightly. "Is it one of those things you're not supposed to talk about?"

He shook his head weakly before snapping out of it and taking her out of earshot of the middle-aged muggle. "No, no, it's fine. I, uh, it just made a lot of sense." Jennifer looked tempted but seemed to battle with herself before sitting next to him and not saying a word after giving his hand a brief squeeze.

With a mind as blank as the Marauder's Map within his pocket, Harry was struggling to come to terms with everything after connecting the dots of his insane life. Yeah, it all added up but it was one hell of a surprise. Shock soon took over and everything around him grew hazy as he focussed on nothing but his thoughts.

 _Why didn't Dumbledore tell me the truth in first year when I was in the hospital wing? How is love supposed to defeat Voldemort?_

 _What did he mean by transferred powers?_

 _Why does my head feel like it's about to split open when Voldemort's near?_

 _How in the seven rings of hell did Dumbledore not detect Voldemort in first year?_

 _Am I the reason Voldemort killed my parents?_

 _Does Jennifer's guess have some merit? Am I a supposed defeater of Voldemort?_

 _If that's true, why haven't I been put through rigorous training so I know I'll win?_

 _Why don't we ever have a decent defence professor that stays? If another war started we'd be slaughtered._

 _Trelawney always predicted me dying. Or was that just a flare for the dramatics?_

 _How do I find out if there is a prediction or prophecy? Would there be a record of it somewhere?_

 _Would someone be keeping records of these sort of things, surely? Somewhere stable? Our government? The Ministry? But where? What departments are there?_

The questions never seemed to stop and Harry blindly allowed Jennifer to lead the way until she snapped her fingers in front of his face, shocking him out of his thoughts. "Uh, sorry Jennifer," he apologised as he recognised Charing Cross Road. Making sure Jennifer's friend was with them, Harry led the way towards The Leaky Cauldron but stopped outside the pub. "As you're dressed now, the people in there will immediately identify you as someone without magic or at least a muggleborn. If you're asked any questions pretend your friend is your guardian and you're a muggleborn – someone with no magical parents. It's the most believable story, and thankfully you're both wearing pants, so you shouldn't draw too much attention," he explained, watching them nod. "So, the story?"

"I'm Jennifer, a muggleborn, and Uncle Rob is my guardian," she recited before hesitating for a second. "I…want to study ahead for fourth year?" she added in question, to which Harry smiled in approval. It was appropriate for such an early visit for a muggleborn if anyone asked.

"Good. Firstly we'll need to convert the money into wizarding currency because pounds aren't accepted in there," Harry told the pair before turning to Jennifer. "If they ask what house you're in say Hufflepuff. They generally kept to themselves at school."

After a warning of not gaping at everything, he opened the doorway to Diagon Alley. "Try and blend in," he asked, hoping for the best. If it hadn't been for Jennifer's generosity he'd have no money to pay for an inheritance test and get an owl. After no correspondence from anyone he knew, Harry had every intention to get a lot of mileage from the bird he'd buy. Making straight for the marble white building and starting to mutter to the pair of them, Harry shared essential information. "Don't mess with the bankers. Goblins are a warrior race and take any display of teeth as aggression as a threat. I don't know all of their customs but treat them with respect. Never cross a goblin. Ever."

The instructions earned him a few looks from Jennifer and Rob, but thankfully they didn't question him. Upon reaching the bank Harry approached the nearest available teller and got down to business. "Excuse me, Master Goblin?" he addressed, shooting Jennifer a quick look of confusion when she gave him half of the money in her purse.

"What services do you need, human?" the goblin enquired in its gravelly voice.

Paying no attention to the muggles behind him, Harry didn't waste a moment of the goblin's time. "Currency exchange and how much is an inheritance test?"

The goblin held out its hand for the many and Harry immediately obliged. "The inheritance test is ten sickles," it answered, handing over wizarding currency after a moment.

 _That's extortion!_ Harry didn't dare show his outrage for the price and reluctantly agreed, parting with the equivalent of Dudley's pocket money from Aunt Petunia before he followed the goblin into an office through several corridors. Shooting the muggles a warning not to say anything, Harry watched the goblin as it swiftly prepared a rune-engraved bowl, a knife, along with an enchanted quill and parchment.

"Three drops of blood will suffice," it instructed before sitting at the desk. "The key for any vault you're entitled to will appear on my desk." He did as told and watched as the quill danced across the parchment with the results. How easy or difficult his life was going to depend on the outcome, so Harry watched with baited breath and silently beseeched the world for some mercy. When the quill stopped, he had to stomp out every urge to say something out of impatience when no keys appeared. "Mr Potter, the results."

Taking the parchment Harry read it.

Potter – Vault 687 – Trust vault – Claimed

Potter – Vault 591 – Claimed

Evans – Vault 843 – Claimed

Gryffindor – Vault 2 – Claimed

Peverell – Vault 7 – Claimed

"Master Goblin? What does it mean when a vault has been claimed?" Harry asked reluctantly.

The goblin looked up at him in boredom. "Another person currently holds the key, as is their right."

While the answer was as plain as day, he felt his stomach drop in dismay. There were several vaults he could be a benefactor of in the future. What confused him greatly was that his trust vault no longer belonged to him. Hoping there was an error he asked the question plaguing him. "Master Sharpaxe? My key for the Potter Trust Vault was stolen two days ago. How is it that the key for it isn't on the desk?" he spoke carefully, hoping to Merlin that he didn't step over any unspoken lines.

Goblin just sneered at him. "Then the vault never belonged to you."

It was a quiet procession as they left the office and returned to the main hall of the bank before leaving the bank a little poorer. Shoving the results into his pocket with his notes from yesterday he followed Jennifer down Diagon Alley with Rob bringing up the rear. _Never belonged to me? How can that be?_

Mentally occupied with his predicament, Harry kept a careful eye for the faces of Death Eaters he knew and allowed Jennifer to lead the way. Entering the emporium, his eyes fell on a very familiar owl. "Hedwig?" he murmured in disbelief, his arm outstretch and waiting for her to land on it.

The snowy owl glided down from her high perch and looked to him as though he was a mystery she was trying to figure out. Their strange reunion was interrupted by the store owner. "Finally taken a liking to someone, I see," she remarked, taking an observant look at the owl. "She'll be fifteen Galleons." Behind the store owner, Harry saw Jennifer and Rob's eyes widen in surprise.

Harry, not exactly in the mood to be a pushover, decided that he would try to haggle for Hedwig, but ultimately pay whatever price they wanted. "You would have charged fifteen galleons for her four years ago. Twelve galleons," he countered, watching as an expression flashed across the owner's face.

"Fourteen galleon, ten sickles."

He opposed the new price trying to conserve what money he had. "Thirteen galleons, two sickles."

"Thirteen galleons, twelve sickles."

Feeling he wasn't going to be able to haggle any lower and not wishing to irritate the owner, he nodded. "Done," he agreed before turning to Jennifer. "Thirteen gold, twelve silver," Harry instructed as he handed her his pouch with his spare hand. His full attention was on the owl he'd known for years, but how she ended up back in the emporium and for sale at that was beyond his understanding. Too pleased that something familiar was back in his life, Harry happily pampered Hedwig until he was drawn from his small world of Harry and Hedwig by Jennifer's cough. Murmuring instructions to the owl to fly to Jennifer's house and gave the girl an embarrassed smile. "Sorry."

"It's alright, you were just a bit _fixated_ for a moment there. Looking a bit weird, I might add," she provided with a cheeky grin, bumping his shoulder with hers.

They left the emporium and went to Fortescue's at Jennifer's insistence to pay for magically altered ice cream. It was a pleasant affair with Jennifer and Rob expressing their wonderment on the combination of ice cream and magic while Harry enjoyed his treacle tart sundae.

"I mean, seriously, this is awesome!"

Rob gave Jennifer a look, making her wilt under his gaze, which Harry was thankful for. Looking to Jennifer in mirth after having another spoonful of his sundae; his reaction had been much the same when he tried it in the summer before third year. A moment later Jennifer smiled and continued to indulge in the never-melting ice cream with joy.

Their next stop wasn't one Harry had intended but involved a lot of banter.

"You need a haircut, Potter."

Lifting an eye at her, he shot back. "Sure you weren't talking about yourself?"

"Ha! As if. You've been pushing that fringe out of your face all morning."

A scowl flittered across his face but he combatted her immediately. "Pot. Cauldron."

"I smile when I do. You get irritated."

It was to his shock that Rob, who'd been laughing at them, turned on him as well. "You'll never win against her. Just get that mop neatened up." Sending him a mock look of betrayal Harry surrendered to the pair and went in with the other two trailing behind him. A short while later Jennifer was taking glee in ruffling his now short and rebellious hair, Rob behind them and enjoying the show.

"Rob, will you get this creature off me?" He nearly begged, starting to lose his patience with her. Looking back at their middle-aged companion he saw he wasn't going to get any help on that front. A few more stores later and carrying a bag of essential clothes, Harry's instincts kicked in and couldn't shake the feeling he was watched. "Jennifer, Rob," he addressed seriously. "I'm going to summon Dobby and he's going to take you to Jen's house. Tell him to put this bag in the Shrieking Shack. I think my luck's run out," he muttered, handing Jennifer the clothes. Eyes focussed on a Death Eater emerging from a store.

The pops of apparation began.

"Dobby!"

"Harry Potter summons?"

"Take these two to Jennifer's house."

"Yes, Harry Potter." Pop.

And within a moment he was alone within the pandemonium of screaming witches and wizards.

Going against the flow of fleeing families, he drew his wand and approached the epicentre of the commotion, intent on fighting the masked Death Eaters ahead, but it wasn't to be as cold took over Diagon Alley.

 _"Haaaarrrrryyyyy!"_ a woman screamed within his mind.

 _I am not going to faint now!_

Running towards the flying cloaked horrors he focussed on the thought and emotion that had yet to fail him. " _EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" he shouted, mentally pushing all he had into the spell.

Amongst the panic, a brilliant white stag bound towards the dementors and fighting them off with his antlers. Some people faltered and gaped at his ability but he fixed that soon enough. "Don't stand there! Get out of here!"

As a result from the distraction of telling people to flee, Prongs visibly weakened but didn't fade before Harry centred himself and put his attention back on the spell.

With the street emptying by the second, Harry proceeded to weave between the remaining stragglers and work towards the fight up ahead. He could see the Death Eaters and Aurors were roughly equal in number, but they were getting distracted by the effect of the dementors. Sending Prongs ahead to protect them, Harry bolted towards the skirmish, donned his cloak and snuck behind enemy lines.

The fight was getting ugly; the spells becoming darker. Some aurors falling where they fought; some of them still breathed. Casting Expelliarmus as fast as he could he witnessed the looks of shock and the Death Eater being captured during the distraction.

Some the Death Eaters turned in his direction and tried to put him out of commission. With stealth no longer an opinion, he ran to the aurors' side after firing a Bombarda at the cobblestone ground for cover.

 _Their spells are out of my league. I'll end up distracting the aurors._

Finding a use for himself, he saw debris from the fight and banished it into the shins of the Death Eaters, sending some off balance in surprise. However, he had to produce Prongs again when the cold of the dementors returned and with it, the scream of his deceased mother.

Pouring all he had into Prongs, Harry failed to notice an increase of red-robed witches and wizards until finally the shouts of a fight were gone. He couldn't tell if the dementors were gone, so didn't let up on his patronus despite the talk within Diagon Alley.

"Good Merlin…" an unknown voice murmured.

"Is that Prongs?" A strong, familiar one commented.

"I think it is. Perfect replica." A quiet but confident male. "But isn't he back home?"

"He better bloody well be, Moony" the unknown voice grumbled, coming closer.

"This isn't a kid-"

"How the hell is a fourteen-year-old doing it?"

"Imposter, I say."

"You can't fake a patronus, Mad-Eye."

"Potter!"

Snapping his eyes from his patronus, Harry surmised that the entire auror office was here. Glancing in the direction of the Death Eaters he saw they'd all been apprehended, but not without losses. "Oh shit."

"Indeed, boy."

"Lay off, Moody. He probably tipped the scales today."

"Can't be him."

"-questioning."

"-uncanny to him."

"- the prophecy?"

"It applies to neither. Don't be ridiculous, Frank."

"Don't get your wand in a knot."

He was cornered. He knew it. There was one way of getting out of this mess, two if he had time which he didn't, and he'd never tried it before. Not at the speed he needed.

 _Don't be dumb! Use Dobby!_

"Dobby," he muttered with intent.

Pop. "Harry Potter –"

"Jennifer's!" Harry shouted, on the verge of losing his sanity at the sight before him.

Within a second he was inside the guest bedroom, but he really didn't want to be there right now. He needed familiarity, the Shack, but to leave Jennifer without saying anything would leave her worried. She was a nice person if a bit rough around the edges.

"Harry?" she called from downstairs. Her footfalls on the stairs were hurried and she appeared before him in the doorway. Taking one look at him, she came over and was gentle as she helped him sit on the bed with her. "Harry?"

Looking at the girl beside him, Harry suppressed his emotion and tried to give a reassuring nod.

It seemed he'd failed spectacularly at that.

"What is it?" her eyes beseeched for him to tell her what was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. "You've told me crazy stories before. I'll listen to more." That made him snort.

"This one takes the cake, Jennifer," he said in barely a whisper. Shudders sneaking their way past his control. He felt her rise from the bed but didn't look up until he felt her taking his shoes off. "Wh-Why are you-?"

"Taking off your shoes?" she finished for him, putting one aside before taking off the other. "Harry, you're exhausted," she justified after putting the second with the first one and taking off his robe. "It's in your eyes. Something plagues you, haunts you but not. Disbelief maybe. I don't know what exactly, but you need rest. Is there anything you want to say before I leave you-"

Something snapped within him at those words. "I think you were right," he uttered suddenly, watching her turn around with a worried look.

She came over and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his middle. "What do you mean, Harry? I've said a lot of things lately."

Harry simply shook his head, lifting it and looking at the wall above the desk. "I need to go somewhere familiar, Jen. I can't stay here tonight."

Jennifer started thumbing his far shoulder. "Do you think Dobby would have the Shrieking Shack ready? You'll be safe there, right? What _is_ the Shrieking Shack?"

Glad for the distraction he happily grabbed the topic with both hands. "It's a building near my school that has a tunnel onto the school grounds. Twenty or so years ago there was a student who had a monthly affliction. Really nice man and he don't deserve it. But against his will, he became something dangerous with a bloodthirsty mindset. Every month he would go there so everyone else was safe from him while he was contagious. The transformation is really painful and the village near the school would hear his screams. So they dubbed it the 'Shrieking Shack'."

Jennifer had an expression of sorrow for Remus, before focussing on Harry again. "And no one uses it anymore? You'll be fine?"

He almost laughed. How many times had he used the phrase 'I'll be fine'? "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine."

The muggle got off the bed against and looked down at his shoes. "I guess you'll have to put those shoes on again, huh?" she suggested with an amused look. Watching her for a moment, he noticed a thoughtful expression before she made for the door. "I'll make us some lunch, Harry. I'll see you down there?"

"Yeah, but can I make it? I need a distraction, Jen," he answered weakly.

"Sure. Whatever's needed," Jennifer readily agreed, gesturing to his shoes with a smile before leaving the room.

Quickly putting them on, Harry did the best he could to not think about those little snippets of conversation he'd caught after the Diagon Alley skirmish. What he'd seen implied so much but he didn't know how things had changed so drastically. Taking the stairs two at a time he went into the kitchen and saw Jennifer patiently waiting for him. "Hey," was all he said.

"Hey," she parroted back, sitting herself down at the dining table sideways, watching him prepare lunch like it was second nature. The room was silent until he brought the sandwiches over, placing a plate in front of her. "Thanks. You'll send me letters with Hedwig, won't you?" she asked, looking to the owl with her head tucked under her wing. He was stumped why she still wanted to be around him and it must have shown. "You're a nice person, Harry. That should be reason enough."

"You'll get bored of me once the novelty of magic wears off," he disagreed before taking a bite. "And it wouldn't be fair to you, Jennifer. You're on the outside looking in, and I know what that's like. Wanting to be part of something but knowing that you truly can't. Could you deal with that? Aunt Petunia hated my mother because she had to watch Mum enjoy magic while she felt sidelined. My aunt resented her because of it; even after death."

Jennifer looked like she was going argue before thinking better of it. "How about we stay in touch and see how it goes?"

It was a pretty open-ended offer and the quaffle was in his hands now. "Alright, but once things start making sense again." In all honesty, Harry hoped that Jennifer wouldn't hold her breath given his track record on things being weird. And as he'd said earlier, he needed to go to the Shack. A place he knew. There may not be food in the Shrieking Shack, but Hogwarts or the Malfoys could feed him. He wouldn't feel too guilty if Dobby pinched some food from the Malfoys for him.

The rest of lunch was a quiet affair and finally after gathering all of his few belongings. Donning the robe again, checking the pockets for his wand, map, and cloak, his essentials were there. Grabbing the bag of clothes and the wand holster purchased this morning, he strapped wand holster onto his arm and told Hedwig where to go. Turning to Jennifer he didn't know what to really say and hesitated. "Well, uh, I guess this is it. It means a lot that you helped me get on my feet," he thanked, with an awkward one arm hug.

Jennifer looked a little sad but smiled. "Find some peace, Harry," she wished him before stepping back and nodding. "It was nice meeting you."

"Dobby," he intoned, barely having to wait a second before the elf appeared. He was pleased to see that the loyal house elf was starting to look better. There were a few new bruises, but Harry knew he couldn't help with those. It wasn't too difficult to imagine the way Lucius Malfoy treated Dobby with that cane of his.

"Harry Potter needs Dobby?" he asked, looking pleased with himself

"Is the Shrieking Shack ready?" Harry enquired gently, getting a flappy-earred response from Dobby.

"Shack is ready for Harry Potter. Does Harry Potter want to go now?"

"Yes, Dobby. When we get there could you answer a few questions for me?"

"Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby will help the kind wizard with strange bond to Dobby."

Harry looked up to the muggle and gave her a little nod. He would probably write to her whether things got back to normal or not. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

And the sight of Jennifer's living room was gone.

Hours after arriving in the Shrieking Shack with his meagre possessions, Harry was seated on the repaired bed staring at the Marauder's Map within the poor lighting. Dobby, as he'd promised, answered Harry's questions ranging from sneaking him food from the Malfoys to the details of who looked after prophecies and where to find them. The request of food had been granted with a rebellious glint in the house elf's eyes, and after Dobby confessed he was somewhat limited in his knowledge of the Ministry of Magic, the elf told him that the ministry had a place for prophecies but not where after naming the departments the of The Ministry of Magic. However, Dobby couldn't be of any further help about the prophecies, to Harry's dismay.

Level One – Minister and Support Staff

Level Two – Magical Law Enforcement

Level Three – Magical Accidents and Catastrophes

Level Four – Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

Level Five – International Magical Cooperation

Level Six – Magical Transportation

Level Seven – Magical Games and Sports

Level Eight – Magical Education

Level Nine – Mysteries

And those departments were just the major ones. Reciting that list in his head once more, Harry came to realise that he didn't know much about the Wizarding World at all. Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and Hogsmeade were the only locations he would be able to decently explain to a stranger. Everything else, just like the Ministry of Magic and St Mungo's, and knew nothing beyond the fact that the entities existed. It was alarming really; it was supposed to be the world he'd come to cherish yet knew so little about.

 _I don't have people to, as they say, hold my hand anymore. Those days are over. I'm on my own and will need a damn good understanding of everything if I'm to have a chance at surviving; let alone defeating Riddle._

Deactivating the map and getting to his feet, he began pacing for the sake of doing something. He wasn't like Hermione who could sit down for hours on end to read and write essays. Harry was a wizard of action and didn't have the mental patience to stay still for too long unless it was staying mounted on a broom to chase the snitch. He was a doer, not a thinker. Charging headfirst into this scenario, however, wasn't an option for him and he knew it.

Grabbing a fancy quill, parchment, and inkpot that had no doubt come from the Malfoy household, Harry began scratching away a letter for Jennifer to give himself a sense of venting to someone.

 _~J. Hufflepuff,~_

 _Things aren't normal yet, not by a long shot, but I need to write and get a few thoughts on parchment._

 _I've settled in the new home we discussed and have arranged for Dobby to nick some food from the pompous git and his parents - (he's their elf) – Dobby seemed rather gleeful at the idea when I think about it. They must be as bad as I thought they were, poor guy. Dobby and I talked for a bit and it made me realise just how little I know about the community I introduced you to._

 _After the talk, it felt as though my broom was summoned out from underneath me mid-flight. Scary, really, now that I'm on my own._

 _I don't really know what I'm going do for money, but I'll find a way to get by. Maybe get a junior job in your community until school starts again? I've done a tonne of things while growing up with Aunt Petunia and her marine life. There ought to be something I can do to pay for my school things. I'm a bit nervous about going back actually, but hopefully, I'll have a grip of what's going on before the return date._

 _The lunatic is out there somewhere and I haven't found any hints about him yet. Hopefully, something will be in the paper so I can read it in the local pub. Sightings or something, I wouldn't wish his deeds on anyone, even my relatives (who treated me like dirt for existing)._

 _When I was in town after you left, I heard something that matched up with your guess on the train, but the strangers only mentioned it in passing. After a chat with our friend, I could make a guess of the area where the actual words of it would be but I don't know anything beyond that._

 _Looks like I'll be doing a few stakeouts to find the best time to enter and get the details._

 _Is it me being stubbornly prideful to not go seeking help from that man after everything I've told you? Where I'm staying, how I'm going to get by?_

 _I've had a lot of weird experiences but the latest is top-tier for weird. You saw how I was after I got back from town. I'm coming to grips with a little bit of it at the moment, but the rest are some things that I'm not processing yet. It's unreal. Impossible. But I'm sometimes convinced that impossible is my middle name. It bloody happens to and around me._

 _Escape death at point blank? Done. Turn a guy to dust? Done. Survive fatal poison? Done. Repeal miserable monstrosities? Done. Escape an enemy with years more experience than me? Done. All of it with lots of 'sheer dumb luck' as a certain teacher would say._

 _Perhaps being tossed out on the street would have thrown a lot of people for a loop, but that's child's play compared to the above. I guess being tossed into a new loop every year has somewhat gotten me used to the sense of being thrown around and landing in something crazy._

 _I saw someone I have no living memory of, Hufflepuff. Someone I've missed my whole life._

 _But is it real? An illusion by the lunatic? An imposter to capture me? I want to believe it's real. I do, but it seems too simple to be true._

 _That's the one thing I can't get my head around at the moment. Astronomical odds don't mean crap here, but this? It's too much. And I've been fooled for months on end by a fake of someone else before. What if this is the same thing?_

 _I was told it was impossible. By my teacher in charge years ago!_

 _Someone who matters to me was there as well, but looking far healthier than he logically should be. And out in the open in broad daylight at that! He's supposed to be acting like a haunted recluse! Not that I wish him to be miserable, don't get me wrong, Hufflepuff. It's…weird._

 _Ugh, information overload. I'm getting a headache at this rate._

 _Sorry, I got carried away there. Back to making sense of this madness._

 _Doing a stakeout seems to be the best thing to do right now, aside from raiding some bookshelves. I need info before anything else. I'm covered otherwise._

 _I have a confession to make as well. I wish I had a chance to apologise to Hermione… I haven't told you about her, have I? Studious, dependable, logically-oriented (something magic-raised people tend to lack), caring and loyal. I was such an arse to her two nights back, J. I wish I could take it back. She's a caring friend, but I have no right to call her that after the way I acted. She was trying to help me deal with the murder and discussing it over the weeks before going home. I asked her to step back a bit and when she didn't I snapped at her._

 _If I send her a letter to try and explain she will just be confused like everyone else. I wish I could take our fight back._

 _I'm sorry I'm unloading my troubles onto you, and if you want me to stop just write it in your reply. If you want to write back just tell Hedwig to wait while you do it, otherwise just send her away and I'll leave you alone._

 _Take care, Hufflepuff._

 _\- Chivalrous._

 _~P.S Have you seen my test results? I must have left them at yours.~_

Feeling a bit better after writing that down, Harry rolled up the parchment and turned to a waiting Hedwig. "Take this to Jennifer girl. She might write back, but if she doesn't that's okay," he instructed, petting the owl after tying the parchment to her leg. "Fly safe, Hedwig."

With an affectionate nip to his finger, the snowy owl was gone and disappearing into the night.

Rising to his feet he proceeded to pace again. As he'd written in the letter, Harry suspected the prophecy was in one of the major departments; The Department of Mysteries sounding most likely. However, there was one small problem. He couldn't make himself apparate like other witches and wizards, so him getting caught would be extremely likely. He couldn't afford to be.

The niggling feeling to find out this supposed prophecy wouldn't leave him alone, though. It was driving him crazy. Harry wanted to know the details now that he knew it existed, but with so little knowledge of the Ministry of Magic or more specifically, The Department of Mysteries, where Harry thought it was he was doomed to fail and get caught.

Intent on rectifying that, Harry climbed down the trapped door and into the long tunnel that would bring him out near Hagrid's hut. A good twenty minutes later of walking, along with casting the odd Diffindo where it was a little narrow compared to the rest. Upon reaching the end he pressed the knot in the Whomping Willow, climbing out was easy when knowing what to do. With the failing light, it wasn't difficult to stick to the shadows and avoid making his presence known.

However, when he spotted the Quidditch Pitch all his plans of sneaking inside the castle went out the window. With nothing more than muscle memory from Wood's many practise sessions since first year guiding him, Harry made his way down to the one place where he could leave all of his problems on the ground.

The bleachers weren't sporting any banners of competing Hogwarts houses due to no match underway right now and if he hadn't been here last year he would never have guessed that the pitch once housed a huge hedge maze not so long ago. Climbing up the flights of stairs onto he was on the bleachers, Harry sat himself down and looked at the spot where he returned with Cedric's body for all to see. He closed his eyes for a minute before looking at the rest of the pitch and imagined what it would have looked like to the spectators who watched the monsters and challenges within.

Although unable to see either of them from here, he glanced in the directions of both the lake and the now-dissembled dragon pavilion. All three of those tasks he would have gone in blind had it not been for the help of Hagrid and Dobby in the first two; the third he just got lucky in solving the sphinx's riddle.

Getting to his feet and climbing the stairs until he was in one of the pitch towers, Harry sat and leant back in thought.

 _Why didn't Dumbledore try to get me out of the tournament? He just…let me fumble through it really._

 _Sirius; There was no training to fight against a man allegedly intent on killing me. I got help for the patronus myself._

 _Basilisk; The headmaster was here when Riddle did it. Dumbledore must of at least had some inkling what was going on the second time. Hermione figured that one out from a library book._

 _Stone; Oh yeah, he had a hand in that one, definitely. It was a mild challenge for me, Ron and Hermione as firsties. The perfect thing Voldemort needed too. That's…that's bloody scary._

Just like last time he had similar thoughts, there was a feeling of self-disgust, however, he was mentally stating facts. So where was the shame in it? On a side note, the disgust wasn't as strong this time, which intrigued him a bit before dismissing it and returning to being rattled.

 _Scratch that. The whole lot creeps me out._

 _Could the yearly challenges have something to do with the mentioned prophecy? Which I have no idea about?_

 _Hang on. Dumbledore said in first year he'd tell me about Voldemort when I was older. Does that mean I've got something to do with it?_

 _Dumbledore would probably know about a prophecy, and all the more so if it's on Voldemort; who's after me._

 _Did he watch me fumble about in the deep end of danger on a yearly basis? Or could he honestly not do anything about them? A little difficult to believe, though; he's famous for his wisdom and abilities. Stronger and wiser than three first years, surely?_

 _But why did it take me to beat Voldemort nearly every year?_

 _Dumbledore's stronger and wiser, without a doubt; Voldemort fears him and the first war ended because of him._

 _Why does Voldemort keep singling me out? I'm not even out of school! What have I got that he hasn't?_

Harry felt as though someone just poured a bucket of ice-cold water over his head.

 _No…_

 _Sweet Merlin, that's just…just…insane. It can't be true!_

 _Me and Voldemort?_

 _But why no extra training? I still can't figure that one out._

 _I need to know this prophecy they mentioned in Diagon Alley. I need to!_

His thoughts weren't as rampant as they had been on the train to London with Jennifer, so it was easier to establish that something twisted was going on. Just like the shock in Gringotts, Harry felt his stomach plummet. Hogwarts was looking more and more like a death trap and less like a school, as well disguised as it was. A death trap that got Cedric this year.

 _It's supposed to be a safe school!_

 _In. Grab. And out. I'm getting the hell away from here! I'll figure something out, but not Hogwarts. It's been three strikes already. Oh, and Voldemort who keeps getting involved every year. Maybe Durmstrang under a false name. 'Know thy enemy' and all that._

Getting to his feet and donning the cloak, Harry silenced his shoes and strode up to the castle quickly while activating the map in one hand and carrying his wand in the other. Entering was easier than he expected, but Harry supposed that was in case Hagrid needs an easy way to talk to Dumbledore if he wanted to. The majority of the teachers no doubt went on holiday, except maybe McGonagal and probably Snape.

Looking at the corridors now, decorated with lavish paintings and polished statues, wasn't the same anymore. He used to consider this home away from a false home, but once he'd used his brain to think about the place for a few minutes it now felt like he was inside the hedge maze again sans the monsters.

 _Why didn't I question this before?_

Shaking his head at the self-scolding, Harry chalked the lack of critical thinking up to being too happy to be away from the Dursleys. Ripper was a nightmare, but at least he was knee high and only one head. Rosebushes were a bitch to prune but it wasn't Devil's Snare. Cleaning cauldrons and scrubbing pots; no difference. Aunt Petunia's glares didn't match the mythological Medusa, but at least she didn't try to kill him. Vernon Dursley was a source of misery but better than Dementors and not nearly as fatal.

 _How much of a gullible idiot, am I? Why the hat wanted to put me in the house for the cunning and self-preserving I'll never know._

Cutting himself off and entering the library, he searched the shelves for books about prophecies and had to sift through a few before finding one that got to the point without babbling about the Inner eye too much. With the decent book under his arm and one of dueling strategy not long after, Harry quickly grabbed a copy of his animagus text, as well as a book on healing so he could help Dobby. Hesitating for a moment in front of a slim book about other schools he caved and grabbed that one too before deciding to humour Jennifer's joke and went over to the newspapers.

His stay, however, had to be cut short when he heard the distant sound of Mrs Norris. Figuring that Filch would be too far behind and surprised that he was even here, he abandoned the idea of the newspapers. Grabbing his procured books sitting the map on top, he took every shortcut he knew and once on the ground floor cleared the map, shove it in his pocket and fled like a bat out of hell towards the Willow.

Thanking Merlin that Fang wasn't out and about to hear him and draw attention to his presence, Harry ran the length of the tunnel until he was inside the upstairs bedroom of the Shack. He knew he wasn't safer here, but if it kept him out of Dumbledore's reach then so much the better; he didn't know what to think about the man right now. Dumping the four books on the bed, he opened the one on prophecies but was soon disappointed. Just types of prophecies, how they're made, but not where to find them.

Tossing the book aside onto a desk, he left the Shack through a door Dobby had added for him. He needed air and a lot of it. Hiding behind the Shack where he would be concealed from the town, he changed his limbs one by one but faltered when he got to the legs. Thinking better of it, he reversed his efforts and donned his cloak before heading for The Three Broomsticks.

His presence went unnoticed with careful footing, but he almost ruined it in his desire to get inside. It took ten minutes of waiting in the middle of the street outside the pub before the door was finally opened by leaving customers. Slipping in, Harry went over to a booth in a dark corner and started searching for anything about Voldemort in the paper. If the murderer was after him, he was going to need to keep track of Riddle's movements.

By the time he got to the back page, he had released a soft disappointed sigh. He'd scoured every page for information, however, the newspapers gave him everything but that. Ads for warding again; others were useful spells for escaping Death Eaters; some were calling for NEWT graduate trade apprentices; there was a trial for reserve quidditch players soon; an ad for a new defence professor at Hogwarts of course; birth, wedding and death announcements.

"Useless," he groaned to himself in disappointment. The job ads didn't help either; simply serving as a reminder of his predicament.

One thought occurred to him but the idea while solving one problem would create another, and he didn't have the requirements anyway. Leaning against the leather of the booth, Harry opted to eavesdrop on the conversations around him. Most of the talking was useless to his problems, but there were whispers coming from the booth across from his. Harry was unable to see who they were or how many people there. Rising from his seat, he silently moved over to a corner near them and strained to hear. As he listened there was no distinction between the voices, striking his interest. The wording and speed of speech were the only ways he could tell the difference between them and figured out there two speakers.

"So we have a chance of getting rid of him then?"

"Yes."

"But how? You told me it had faded to grey years ago, Death," the first speaker replied sounding surprised and solemn.

"I did and it was true, but I am not colour blind. I know what I saw, Gemini," Death replied in conviction.

"Hmm, I don't doubt you, Death, but who would it be?" Gemini inquired with a tone of thoughtfulness.

Death sighed sadly. "I don't know, Gemini. I don't know, and frankly, I wouldn't want to burden anyone with it. Neither of them fit the criteria anymore."

"You're worried about your own, aren't you?"

Harry had no idea what was going on, but it sounded pretty serious so he remained here hoping to hear something that made sense to him. The vagueness was what had a strong grip on his curiosity.

"Yes," Death confirmed in worry. "I don't want it to be him."

"Understandably. Only a heartless parent would. You're right to be worried for him, Death."

"I'm not the only one of us worried, Gemini."

"You told him then?" Gemini remarked, not sounding the least bit surprised before chuckling. "Breaching protocol, Death? Never thought you had it in you," Gemini seemed to tease before clearing his throat. "I won't speak a word of it to Croaker. We've known each other for years, and I wouldn't be there if you hadn't vouched for me." Harry blinked for a moment. The first part reminded him of Ron teasing Hermione about breaking rules in Hogwarts. He assumed Death and Gemini were friends as he continued listening.

"Thank you, but what else could I have done, Gemini? He deserves to know as much as I did. I couldn't withhold something like that. It concerns both of us."

"Death, I don't blame you for doing so, but you know how creative of a mind he has."

"I know, and my husband can be tight-lipped when necessary. Like you have always needed to be, Gemini."

"I have no doubt he can. It's what the information will do to him that concerns me." Gemini remarked solemnly. Harry, presuming the conversation was over made to leave but falter when Gemini spoke again. "You'll wear yourselves down eventually. But on a different note, I have something you should see. I appropriated it during lunch."

There was a shuffle of parchment before they spoke again. "From whom? This is sensitive information."

"That's the question, isn't it? I summoned it after the scuffle before anyone could get curious."

There was a moment of silence before he heard the sound of nails tapping on wood as the parchment was presumably being read. "But how could this be? It matches ours; all of them. He was grounded and I had my anti-floo charm on him from the beginning. The others were at their friends."

Gemini chuckled for a moment in appreciation. "Ah, your creation, but I have to admit I'm at a loss as well."

"Thank you for showing me this. It raises many questions, though," Death replied, sounding as though she was putting the parchment in her robe. "I'm going back to DOM. I'll show you what I saw in the hall."

 _DOM? Oh, right, Department of Mysteries. Who else uses obviously fake names? I owe you one, Dobby._

"Death? Shouldn't you be heading home like everyone else? You've been there all day, and I already took your word for it."

 _Day job, then. No stakeout necessary now._

"I admit it's been a long day. You're always welcome over, Gemini."

Harry stepped around the corner, hoping to catch anything else when he heard noticed things had gone quiet. "Death, what privacy wards did you use?" Gemini remarked in amusement. Harry's eyes widened at the implication that he had been detected and immediately manoeuvred his way through the pub without hesitation. Gemini either picked up that someone had been eavesdropping or a generally paranoid person, but Harry wasn't going to stick around to find out. He had at least fifteen seconds before they might rise and pursue him.

Once he was outside in the darkening village, Harry looked at the windows and saw no one was making for the door. Breaking into a run nonetheless, he rushed towards the Shrieking Shack with his cloak still on just in case he'd been tricked and someone was trying to follow him.

He couldn't hear anyone but didn't take chances and grabbed anything that may give anyone the impression he'd been here, shoving the few things into his bag of clothes. Fleeing down the trap door, he raced through the tunnel until he was on Hogwarts grounds again and turned towards the pitch where he hid in one of the bleacher towers. Whipping out the map he incanted the phrase and watched for twenty minutes before he relaxed. Hagrid was in his hut, but aside from that Harry was alone.

Aware that he couldn't remain out in the open for the night, he reluctantly left his vantage point and took refuge in the Gryffindor locker room. Dumping the bag on a bench and gripping the wood of the seat.

"Refuge," he muttered humourlessly, but not in disbelief. A change of location three times in less than soon many days. Looking around the room a little aimlessly, he spotted his Quidditch robes which rekindled the thought he had squashed earlier. "I'd need a fake identity for it to work," he said to himself. He'd have to pull a Tom Riddle without coming up with a pretentious result.

In the back of his mind, Harry wondered why the hell he was even considering putting himself in the spotlight while trying to hide but decided to humour the idea and summoned some parchment, a quill, and ink.

 _Harry James Potter_

Tapping the feather against his chin he started with the surname. Racking his brain for something, Peeves' song from second year popped up.

"Oh, Potter, you rotter…" he murmured remembering how the poltergeist did its best to give him grief that year. "Never thought I'd be saying thanks for that," he remarked, looking at the letters he had left. Knowing he needed to change his first name somehow he gave 'Rotter' a twist that would sound the same.

 _Rohter._

Spelling his last name in reverse 'Rettop' would have been easier, however, it hardly sounded like the surname he'd been responding to for years. Thinking of a short name for his first name he aimed for something that was similar to his original one. However, it was a struggle without checking what was left.

 _ary James Pt_

"Honest to Merlin, could this be any harder?" he grumbled trying to think of a first name that would grab his attention if someone said it. Pacing the length of the locker room, he wished Remus was here. He'd be able to help for this sort of thing. Harry wouldn't dare leave it up to Sirius to come up with something, it'd probably be outrageous.

Sitting back down and getting a grip, Harry looked at the letters again before spotting something with two choices and coming to a decision. A derivative of his parents' friend's name would make him turn around, despite the fact that it was nothing like his given name.

 _Remys Rohter_

Leaving…

 _a J Pt_

From those four letters, he could see an abbreviation of a real name and wrote it down just for the hell of it, despite the fact it didn't use 'J'.

 _Remys Pat Rohter_

"Well, I'm not going all French," he grumbled, looking at the odd job. It screamed fake, or parents who were high at the time. "Remys Rohter," he said slowly, as though testing the name. "Merlin, it sounds weird." It felt a little wrong to be using Remus' name, even if it was slightly changed, but who would know the reason behind using it?

Gripping his knees, Harry groaned in frustration. "It's the only thing that would grab my attention. Wizarding world and last names. If I didn't have to have something like 'Potter' it probably would have been a lot easier."

A familiar pop broke Harry out of his train of though. "Harry Potter sir, Dobby has food."

Looking down Harry couldn't resist a small smile at Dobby's victorious grin as he levitated a plate of well-cooked food onto the bench. "Thanks, Dobby," he said sounding a little dejected at his failed attempt to find a good name that he would respond to. When Dobby lingered, Harry gestured to the bench. He could afford Dobby's likely response in such a desolate place. "Would you like to sit with me until you're summoned?"

And just like he anticipated, Dobby got all teary-eyed and choked up at the suggestion. "Sit-Sit down?" Harry just nodded, bracing his ears for what was to come. "Dobby has _never_ been asked to sit down by a wizard…like an _equal…_ " Dobby commented weakly and proceeded to cry and blow into his pillowcase.

Seeing that the elf was still on the ground, looking up at him with watery eyes of adoration. Harry did his best to comfort the elf. "You're a good elf, Dobby. You can always sit with me," he reassured as he remembered his first encounter with the elf. "Come on."

"Such goodness, Harry Potter sir has. Dobby never knew," the house elf sobbed before jumping up onto the bench.

Harry smiled sadly at the reminder that Dobby was still in servitude to the Malfoys; the elf's behaviour was parallel to what he'd seen in second year. He missed Dobby's displayed spunk and happiness in what was less than a month ago, which felt so far away now. Wanting his elf friend to be happy once more, Harry swore to him he'd buy Dobby off the Malfoys and free him again if he got the chance. He would have said it now but didn't want to send the poor guy into shock after the first revelation tonight.

Giving the elf a thankful smile, Harry eagerly ate the roast while thinking how he could set Dobby free without having to pay for money if possible. The little elf didn't deserve the orders for punishments the Malfoys gave him. However, by the time he finished the food Harry had to admit that it wouldn't be so simple this time. Last time was a spur of the moment mixed with a bit of luck.

Saddened that he would need money that he didn't have, Harry looked to Dobby and took in his condition. Thankfully, the elf didn't have wrappings around his hand like the night they first met. "It's good to see you're looking well, Dobby. If you ever get ordered to hurt yourself, you can come to me to heal you," he offered the little guy, who nodded while clearly blinking back tears.

"Too kind you are, Harry Potter," Dobby sniffed, before vanishing the plate and popping away.

Harry winced in guilt at the obvious hint that he'd been a little too kind to the elf in a single night. Hoping Dobby wouldn't get caught in such a state by the Malfoys, but doubting he'd come back tomorrow unscathed, he retrieved the book on healing and began studying spells for basic burns once the locker room was lit by the light of a Lumos.

Glancing where Dobby had been sitting, Harry saw the parchment he'd forgotten about.

Remys Rohter

Leaving out the middle name didn't seem so back and could probably make it 'Patrick' if he was ever asked. He would need to pretend to be a muggleborn if his identity was going to work, which made him groan.

"I forgot Durmstrang had blood prejudice. Maybe Beauxbatons," He still wasn't sure if he'd use it, it wasn't as though he could use his wand for glamours outside of Hogwarts. Giving the name and alternate schools no further attention, he focused on the spells he'd likely need to cast on Dobby tomorrow morning.

The prophecy could wait until tomorrow night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

 **Heart's Desire**

 **Chapter 3**

In the early hours of the morning, the Gryffindor locker room was empty with the exception of Harry, who stirred on the bench before groaning with regret that he'd slept there. Getting to his feet, he knew that it was safer for him to sleep here instead of risking getting caught in the Shrieking Shack. A moment later the lone wizard worked the kinks out of his back before spotting the piece of parchment with the ridiculous name he'd come up with last night.

"Incendio!"

Feeling a bit of satisfaction that the idea was literally turning to ash he watched it burn, but to leave a trace might not be wise so Harry quickly resolved that and muttered "Evanesco."

With his arms crossed loosely, he paced in the locker room thinking back about the last two days.

Financially he was a beggar; he had no one but Dobby and Jennifer; Was in doubt about trusting Dumbledore at the moment; Voldemort and his ilk were out there; There was a high probability of a prophecy concerning him, which would have to wait until tonight; People were different to what he knew; He knew little of the magical society; Dudley knew about magic but not him.

That last fact was interesting and made him pause, stirring his curiosity as to why that would be. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have uttered a word about magic to Dudley or Uncle Vernon unless she absolutely had to, so it came to reason that magic was somehow involved in her life. Dudley wasn't terrified of him when they met in the park, but his cousin was weary of him just the same; so the Death Eaters must not have attacked them or similar.

Turning around he summoned his things before leaving the Gryffindor locker room and approaching the Whomping Willow which he stunned with an Immobulus. The walk to the Shrieking Shack would take him twenty minutes, giving Harry some time to think further on what he was going to do about his relatives.

They'd hate him, no doubt. And the odds of getting Dudley's second bedroom were pretty slim. Odds of being let in the house were low on its own. His interest in the matter was where magic had fitted itself in their lives if Dudley, and presumably his aunt and uncle, didn't remember him.

He'd try with Dudley first since they'd already met once, as unpleasant as it had been. He'd need a bargaining chip if he didn't want to get potentially beaten to a pulp, despite the fact he could outrun the whale if he needed to.

Upon reaching the Shack, Harry entered and was glad to see it hadn't been upended last night after his dash from the Unspeakables in The Three Broomsticks. Setting his things on the desk, Harry practised animagi magic and made a little progress as he awaited Hedwig's return. After roughly an hour Hedwig appeared with a small letter tied to her leg. A small smile graced his face in relief that Jennifer still wished to be in contact with him after everything she now knew and had seen.

Stroking her feathers for a moment, he looked at the owl gratefully. "Thanks, Hedwig." Unfolding the paper he proceeded to read what had been clearly written with a muggle pen.

 _~Chivalrous~_

 _I have to make this short; Mum's home right now, but has work in around midday._

 _Whoa…you seem to be having a hell of a time lately and I don't mean that in a good way. And sorry, but I haven't seen your test results here. Perhaps you lost them?_

 _I'm glad our friend has been able to help you find a new home. And no, I don't blame you for avoiding someone you don't trust, I mean who wouldn't? Since everything is being so crazy for you, maybe you should hide somewhere that no one would expect? Pretend to be a runaway or something in a place the others wouldn't consider. But you're kind of doing that already, aren't you?_

 _I'm sorry about the job thing but there isn't a lot of work for teenagers in Surrey at the moment. Maybe London, or your community? Why not make what you need so you don't need a job?_

 _You have an idea where the special words would be? That's great! I hope you get an answer soon, Chivalrous. And I hope fate will show you some mercy._

 _About your friend; I'm sorry you had a fight with her and didn't get to apologise, she sounds like a great person, but at least you know what you will do if things turn around for you._

 _Why not come over so we can talk?_

 _~Regards,J.H~_

Putting the letter down on the bed, Harry returned to Hedwig and petted her as he waited for Dobby to appear with breakfast. He was a little worried for that elf, and if he was injured Harry would take him inside the Hogwarts wards to heal him so his magic wouldn't be detected.

It was tempting to continue practising his animagus form now that he could manage the legs without a struggle, but he needed to procure some answers from the Dursleys. However, he wouldn't be able to talk to them without some form of magical travel.

"Floo Network, Harry," he scolded himself and grabbing his cloak. "Hogsmeade to Diagon, then try and get a job with muggles."

He was about to leave for The Three Broomsticks to use their floo when a familiar pop made him stop. "Dobby brings breakfast, Harry Potter," the loyal elf announced, levitating it onto the desk.

Smiling with gratitude, he went over and seated himself again, but didn't begin eating before giving Dobby a look-over and seeing what he'd expected. "Thank you, Dobby, but let's get inside Hogwarts wards first," he suggested, wincing at the sight of the burns and bruises. "Those injuries don't look too complicated for me to heal."

The comment seemed to bring a timid smile to poor Dobby's face as he tottered behind Harry within the tunnel. Harry's heart went out to the little guy, trying to please vile and insatiable masters but still had a spirit about him. After ten minutes Harry felt they'd gone close enough for his magic to be undetected. "We ought to be inside the wards now, Dobby. Lumos," he spoke over his shoulder and hearing the elf stop walking before Harry turned around and sat on his heels. "Could you hold out your hands for me?"

Dobby hesitated for a moment within the spell-lit tunnel. "What if rich masters see Dobby's hands?"

"Could you use a glamour to hide the healing?" he suggested and witnessed a hint of Dobby's mischievous side. A moment later the house elf held his hands out for Harry to hold, which he took gently. Recalling the incantation for burns, he was slightly nervous but put faith in his magic before waving his wand as required, and the result was mild compared to the book's text. However, after a few more repetitions Harry witnessed the red around a scab fade before the scab itself fell off entirely. "Better?"

The elf's eyes lit up when he smiled gratefully. "Dobby thanks Harry Potter."

Harry chuckled for a second; he had a bit more work to do yet. "Let me fix your bruises," he said gesturing for the elf to show his back. Without delay, the elf turned around and Harry got to work, flicking his wand like an inverted V towards Dobby's bruises as he clearly pronounced the incantation. "I'm sorry you were hurt last night, Dobby. If I hadn't been so kind last night you wouldn't have been caught."

The elf turned around and fixed him with a stare that surprised Harry. "Dobby's burns and bruises were orders, Harry Potter sir. They knows nothing about Harry Potter and his goodness."

"Oh, well, I guess that's a good thing, but if you're hurt again come to me," he instructed before a thought of curiosity occurred to him. "Aren't house elves able to heal their wounds?"

Dobby blinked at the question before resolutely shaking his head. "Dobby is forbidden. If Dobby heals himself, his rich masters order Dobby to punish himself worse," he replied clearly, making Harry's heart constrict as he learnt more details about the Malfoys' cruelty. The elf's eyes widen for a moment and Harry had to grab him to stop the elf from beating his head against the earthy walls.

The poor elf constantly tried to punish himself for speaking badly of the Malfoys, but Harry was having none of it if he could help it. "Dobby stop!" he shouted and the elf immediately went limp within his arms. "Are you alright?"

Dobby nodded slowly, his glistening tennis ball eyes turned towards Harry. "Thank you, Harry Potter. Too good, you are," the elf said, and Harry released his hold on his little friend who turned to face him. "Dobby was ordered to punish himself if he said bad things about his masters, but Dobby could stop thanks to Harry Potter."

That explanation intrigued him and Harry wasn't sure what to make of it at the moment, but his stomach didn't have plans to let him speculate when it grumbled soundly within the tunnel. "I better eat that breakfast, hey Dobby?" he remarked to the elf who looked a little humoured when Harry could feel the heat in his cheeks.

His friend led the way back to the Shack, but abruptly stopped when they were two minutes of walking from Harry's hiding place. "Here," he spoke clearly.

"What's here, Dobby?"

Dobby looked at Harry as though it was obvious. "Where poor Harry Potter can use magic before he can't."

"Oh, I better mark it then," he commented before realising he wouldn't have a means to see a mark. "Dobby, could you charm a line of light on the ground?" Harry requested and witnessed the elf happily oblige him. The reminder of being poor wasn't appreciated but Harry kept his mouth shut, not wanting the elf to start beating himself against something.

The loyal friend didn't begin walking after because he'd turned to face Harry. "Will kind Harry Potter bes going to Hogwarts?" Dobby inquired with hopeful eyes.

Sitting on the ground so he was level with the kind creature, Harry rested his hands on his knees and looked at Dobby thoughtfully. "I…," he hesitated for a moment before making up his mind. "I wasn't going to. I've been considering going to a school on the continent so I wouldn't be in danger again. Something always happens at Hogwarts," he reasoned, before releasing a long sigh. "But I think I'll have to attend Hogwarts."

"Why have to, poor Harry Potter?" the elf asked curiously and began leading the way to the Shack.

The consistent use of adjectives before his name struck Harry as odd, but he brushed it off for the moment. Adjectives weren't a new concept since Dobby had called him 'Great Harry Potter' in the past. "Everything I know is here. And I have no money to buy international portkeys, or know any safe places to hide," he admitted, not like the sudden feeling of being trapped. Dumbledore wasn't a bad man, but some things wouldn't sit right with Harry until he got some answers. "Besides, people would want to know why a teenager is going overseas alone. The Daily Prophet doesn't like me at the moment, but it doesn't mean the Ministry wouldn't be curious." That reminded him of the newspaper but he didn't want to get Dobby in trouble; he'd check in The Three Broomsticks later.

Dobby didn't say anything in response to that answer making it a quiet two minutes until they were back in the Shack where Harry's breakfast was waiting to be eaten. It was a simple meal for which he was glad because it'd mean the Malfoys wouldn't be wondering where the extra food was going if they were the sort of bothering looking in the pantry, but he somewhat doubted they did.

"Dobby," he spoke, once he'd eaten. "Breakfast was great but I do have one request."

"Yes, Poor Harry Potter?"

Harry winced at the reminder and vowed to resolve that problem soon. "Make sure to keep the food you bring me on the cheap side. I appreciate a good meal, but I don't want the Malfoys to realise what you're doing for me. They'd order extra punishments if they did. I'm happy to heal you but I don't want you to suffer on my account," he requested and giving the little guy a reason for it. His curiosity about Dobby calling him poor got the better of him. "And why do you keep calling me poor, Dobby? I mean, I know I am poor, but do you have to keep pointing it out?" Harry asked, feeling a little bothered by the distinction every time the elf addressed him like that.

"Hard to explain it is, Harry Potter sir," Dobby said with an undertone of regret as Harry sat down on the floor with his back against the bedpost.

Harry nodded to the elf and let out a breath. "Fair enough, Dobby. I just don't like being reminded is all."

"Sorry, Dobby is, Kind Harry Potter," the elf apologised before suddenly jumping up and grabbing the plate before he popped away.

 _Summoned, I guess._

A few minutes later he was changed into some clean clothes and tossed the dirty ones in a corner. Leaving the Shrieking Shack through the door, Harry was once again hidden by his cloak as he made his way over to the pub and picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet. Going over to the dark corner booth, Harry leafed through the pages intently and noticed that the ad for quidditch trials had more details; and they were on today. For a moment he considered it and couldn't help but think of Ron when he saw what team it was for; The Chudley Cannons. He had to muffle a laugh at the idea but faltered when he realised that only a desperate team would have their trials open to the public.

They were desperate.

 _And I am desperate._

He needed to clarify something first. "Dobby," he incanted with a whisper.

The elf popped into view but quickly jumped onto the booth. "Kind Harry Potter?"

 _Why am I considering this? Because you're poor Harry, now get on with it._ Taking a breath he spoke quietly. "Have the Chudley Cannons ever won a league in the last century?"

"No, Kind Harry Potter," Dobby replied in kind, seeming to understand a need for discretion. "Dobby's rich masters make fun of Cannons. Useless, they say."

Nodding in thanks, Harry raked his brain for how he was going to go about this. It was tempting to ask Dobby if he could get away with borrowing Draco Malfoy's Nimbus 2001, but that was pushing his exploitation of the Malfoys. Harry suspected Dobby had almost gotten caught last night and didn't want to risk Dobby again. "Thank you, Dobby. They are having trials today. Could you take me there?"

Dobby was confused for a moment. "But Kind Harry Potter has no broom with him."

"Good point," Harry admitted dejectedly, racking his brain for ideas.

The elf, on the other hand, had popped away and reappeared with a Nimbus 2000 after a few minutes. "Dobby has Potter boy's broom."

 _Strange…Mine was destroyed in third year. Where did he get it from?_

"Don't look a gift-horse in the mouth, Harry," Harry told himself, rising from the seat and leaving the pub, concealing the broom the best he could until he was outside and off the main path. Taking off the cloak he looked to the house elf standing by his side. "Thanks, Dobby."

The little elf held out a hand which he took and within seconds the sight of Hogsmeade disappeared and soon replaced with a quidditch pitch surrounded by bleachers decked out with orange banners. In the bleachers, there were a handful of die-hard fans wearing the orange memorabilia in their clear support for the team with a mile long losing streak.

Harry looked around and took note of where different people were going. Those bearing brooms were heading towards one end of the pitch, presumably a registration table, which brought a problem to his attention; he needed a name. Mum's maiden name seemed like a good start, so he quickly adopted it considering he was going to pose as a muggleborn anyway.

 _Harry Evans. It wasn't too bad_ , he guessed, _at least it wasn't stupid_.

However, despite the fact 'Harry' was a common name, it didn't seem to fit right. Mulling over it for a moment he decided to keep it basically the same but slightly different.

 _Hadrian Evans. It sounds okay but I'll just tell people to call me 'Harry' in person._

With the problem now resolved, he followed the other flyers and indeed came across a registration desk, which was manned by a well-dressed man who had an air of authority about him; Probably the manager.

Signing his new name on the parchment for the seeker position, and after a moment of hesitation, and the beater position after remembering Wood saying he wouldn't make a bad beater. If he was going to go ahead with this he may as well try and be successful. In the end, he probably wouldn't make Beater but why shoot himself in the foot by dismissing the idea without trying first?

Following others who'd finished signing the registration, Harry sat himself down and watched his surroundings for any cues and potential dangers.

"A bit young, aren't ya?" a twenty-something wizard inquired with a look of doubt.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as the person next to him spoke. He'd been so occupied being observant that he'd completely forgot that quidditch fans were a talkative bunch. "So I've been told," he said in memory of first year. "But it's about the skill, not the age, isn't it?" he replied rhetorically with a shrug. "What are you trying out for?"

"Chaser. Played all through Hogwarts. And you?"

"Seeker," he replied instinctively but remembered his decision to try for a second position. "And Beater. My team captain said I wouldn't make a bad one."

The blonde gave him a scrutinising once-over and shrugged. "You've got the build for a seeker, how long have you played?"

"Three years. Caught the snitch in every game bar one."

"Nice," the older man replied before holding out his hand. "Donohue. Brian Donohue."

Taking it Harry replied in kind. "Harr-Hadrian Evans," he said fixing the slip. He was quick to cover his mistake. "Call me Harry, though."

For half an hour Harry continued the small talk with Brian, periodically looking to the pitch and checking his watch, despite the fact that people were still registering and nothing had changed.

"Nervous, Harry?" Brian asked looking mildly edgy himself.

"A little. A lot rides on me getting the reserve position so I've got my fingers crossed."

Brian was about to replied when a man's voice sounded all around the pitch calling for chasers to enter the pitch

"Good luck, Donohue," he called out as the blonde left, who nodded in thanks and made his way down.

The trials seemed pretty standard. The wizard in charge had the candidates do laps around the pitch and progressively called out the numbers on the backs of slower flyer, who left looking a little downtrodden but seated themselves in the bleachers. Those with less sportsmanship immediately left. Donohue remained on the field since he'd been at the front of the pack with the rest of the faster flyers.

Shooting into the goals were next, followed by passing, and later the ability to coordinate with fellow players. Each time the judge picked off the weaker players and had eventually dwindled down to a handful, and amongst them was Donohue. The judge seemed to have been at a crossroads since he sent the five remaining flyers through all of the drills again at least twice. Eventually, he'd chosen a redheaded woman, a brunette male, and Donohue, the three of them together seemed to be the best chasers trying for the reserve positions.

"Next up, SEEKERS!"

Feeling a knot in his stomach, Harry gingerly made his way down to the pitch and encountered around twenty-five other competitors for the position. The majority of them looked at him funny, probably because he was the youngest there, but things moved along too quickly before comments could be thrown his way.

"Alright, let's see your flying seekers," the man instructed, prompting the competitors to mount their brooms. "The fastest make it to the next round. Fall behind and I'll call you out. Evans, your 29; Simmons, your 28," the judge called out and continuing on. Harry paid little interest in who was what number because his was the only one he needed to pay attention for.

"GO!"

An instant later Harry was in the air and feeling the sense of freedom that flight always gave him. The majority of his competition had newer brooms than the Nimbus 2000, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Flattening himself on his broom he was slowly leaving his competition behind, despite their superior brooms, and keeping up with the leader of the pack thanks to his smaller figure. The twenties something witch was riding a Firebolt, which Harry envied since he didn't have his, but before he could work any harder on catching up a whistle resounded throughout the pitch and he landed at their starting point.

There was only half a dozen left including him, but before he could comment or think the judge walked over. "Didn't think you'd still be here, kid," he murmured walking past. "Dodging against our resident beaters. Joey Jenkins and Ian Lloyds. Each of you will have ten minutes each to avoid the bludgers. If I call you out, go to the bleachers or leave if you wish."

Harry was the first to go and although he didn't know whether the judge was trying to get rid of him or have him go first for some other reason, Harry didn't particularly care. Alone in the air with two beaters aiming solely for him sounded like a challenge and he was all for it. Although he wasn't expecting it to happen, Harry wasn't concerned about the possibility of rogue bludgers, he evaded one before and Dobby wasn't obsessed with keeping him safe like he'd been in second year.

In the first two minutes, it was a mild bore for Harry if anything he was feeling a little insulted that the beaters weren't being harder on him. Deciding to get them to up the ante he drew nearer. "Oi! Jenkins! Lloyds!" he bellowed, getting their attention. "Is that all you got? This is nothing to the Slytherin team!" he shouted as he dodged another one. Lloyds clobbered the nearest bludger in response to his little insult. "Now that's more like it!"

That seemed to have gotten under their skin and with their pride on the line, the beaters' aggression climbed each time he dodged the bludgers and gave a cheeky grin in return. Some of the stunts he pulled to dodge earned a gasp from the crowd and he could have sworn there was a fair bit of foul language going on down there.

Harry was honestly enjoying himself, watching the beaters getting increasingly riled as they couldn't land a hit on a kid with a mere Nimbus 2000. This continued on for some time and Harry was suspecting it'd been more than ten minutes by the time he'd dodge a bludger for the thirtieth time. Shortly after one particular stunt, the whistle blew and he could finally take a break from the intense flight. His adrenaline was still going strong when he sat down and watched the others.

"You're insane, Evans," someone said next to him.

Harry just snorted. "You gotta be to play Quidditch."

Fortunately for Harry, one of the opponents for the seeker position suffered from the ire Harry had instigated within the beaters, soon falling off their broom and being carted off to St Mungo's. He felt a little guilty about that.

"What'd you do to piss them off, Harry?" Brian asked as he sat down next to him. "They were practically trying to kill you for twenty minutes."

Harry grinned at Brian. "Told them they were nothing to Slytherin's team." His grin widening when Brian broke out into a deep belly laugh and doubled over.

"You've got a death wish, Evans. You. Have. Got. A. Death. Wish."

He couldn't help but crack a smirk. "Thanks, Donohue. Congrats on getting the Chaser reserve position."

Brian clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head and looking at Harry with mirth. "You may be bloody mad, but you better get on the team, Harry. I hope the manager isn't against having a young player."

"Me too, Brian. I need it."

The pair talked during the rest of the bludger drills and no more opponents were severely injured. He'd observed the rest of them and thought he had a decent chance

"We're going to have four seek-offs," the manager announced, looking to each of them with a critical eye. "Sonorus. GUDGEON GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE! Quietus. Listen for your number. 3 vs 15. 11 vs 20. Find your partner. You're competing for the reserve position." Harry was a little disheartened to not hear his number, but hope rose within him when he realised what was implied. A few minutes later, Harry saw a player in the orange uniform walking up to the manager who gestured to Harry.

 _Am I playing for the top spot?_

"The rules are simple. Ten rounds for each pair, catch the snitch before your opponent by a significant number and before the twenty-minute mark and you're in for the final seek-off for the reserve position," the manager informed the other four before turning to Harry and their current seeker. "As for you, Evans, you bloody nut-job, you will be fighting Gudgeon here for his spot. You beat him by a wide margin and you've got it. Same goes for you, Gudgeon. Evans, I imagine you want a respite?" the manager offered, but Harry declined with a shake of his head.

"I'm good to go now, if you wish?" he replied, looking to his opposition who shrugged and mounted his broom.

"You've got this, Evans!" Harry heard Brian shout as he took off after Gudgeon.

Several hours later Harry was walking out of Gringotts with a key. He had no money in a Gringotts vault but it was a key to one nonetheless. Normally he wouldn't be so damn pleased about it but with the knowledge that his financial woes would slowly disappear he couldn't feel happier. He'd need to play a game before the vault would get any money, but his future wasn't looking so bleak now. It wasn't quite conventional but it was a skill he had and now will soon be getting paid to use it.

With his fellow teammate by his side, Harry talked animatedly with Brian as they discussed the advantage of glasses, contacts and potions. However, his cheeriness went down the toilet when the mention of money came up.

"Brian, I'm practically broke. My broom today was a borrowed one. I can't afford muggle contacts, let alone wizarding ones and potions," he debated, following the older man into Florish and Blotts.

Brian looked over his shoulder with no sympathy. "All part of the contract, Harry. You read it and signed it, now you've gotta get those eyes fixed." Harry just sighed, shoving the key into his pocket, knowing Brian only told the truth. "The potions are a bitch for a few days, but you just handed Gudgeon's arse to him on the pitch. To not offer you the job would have been dumb of Dorkins. It's pretty fair of Dorkins to say you had to fix your eyesight."

Inside the bookstore, as Brian searched the shelves for a particular book, Harry glanced at the window and saw his reflection. He still had the carbon copy resemblance of his father, primarily the rebellious hair and round glasses. "You're right. I just don't look forward to the pain." Harry concede, but for a different reason. Fixing his eyes would help him conceal his identity; thanks to a little help from Dobby his hair was chocolate in colour instead of black.

Once Brian had his book, Harry reluctantly followed the chaser into the seedy area of Knockturn Alley until they entered a wizarding optometrist, which deeply contrasted the appearance of Knockturn Alley once they were inside.

"Not every store in Knockturn Alley is as bad as the alley itself, Harry," Brian commented as he fished out his bottomless pouch and withdraw the galleons necessary to pay for Harry's eyes. "You can pay me back once the league has started," the chaser asserted when Harry was more than ready to object to the generosity.

Harry nodded to Brian absently while trying to pinpoint what was making the hairs on his next stick up, and almost cursed Brian when he grabbed Harry to lead over to a mounted bed. "Jumpy, Evans. Relax. She's not going to kill you. Just pour some horrible potions on your eyes to fix them."

He couldn't help but snort. "Pleasant, I'm sure," he shot back, but cooperating nonetheless as he knew he had no choice in the matter. And just as he'd expected his eyes were in agony as the potion was hopefully doing its job.

"I'll be back in a few hours, Evans. Don't go anywhere."

"As if I can."

Once the worst of the potion induced pain was beginning to fade, he would have been tempted to close his eyes hadn't the witch kept them charmed open. The lack of blinking was making him tear up a bit, but he ignored it in favour of planning for his little adventure tonight. It felt like days before he could see again, but his sight was not entirely yet fixed; only partially.

The witch, Felicia, as he learned, passed him a different pair of glasses to his old one. "Due to the potion, your old prescription will do you no favours," she explained as he took them and blinked a few times once they were on; his sight now sharp. Looking to her, he noticed she was easy on the eyes and had a motherly air about her. "These glasses will adapt as the potion continues to heal your eyes. When you wake for the next few days try to refrain from rubbing them, otherwise, the potion won't be able to completely do its job."

Feeling a little awkward, Harry cleared his throat and nodded. "Um, thanks. But I was wondering if I would be able to wear a pair of non-prescription glasses in the future?" he enquired, earning a look prompting him to go further. "I wish to be an Auror and if my opponent thinks I'm blind without them it would be an advantage in a fight."

Felicia nodded in understanding. "Of course, but not until at least next week, Mr Evans. Mr Donohue has already paid so you may leave when you wish." Grateful for the straight answer, Harry got off the healer's bed and stretched his legs a little but didn't immediately leave. Instead, he went over to the colour chart of the available contacts and browsed at a few opinions and nearly jumped out of his skin when Felicia spoke. "Your eyes are lovely. Why hide them?"

Suspecting that it would be best to keep things close to his chest, he fed her a white lie. "Thanks, but I have a brother and his girlfriend can never tell us apart, hence changing the colour."

Half an hour turned into an hour and Brian still wasn't back. "Excuse me, Felicia, but did you see which way Donohue went? He should be back by now," he enquired, his fingers twitching in case he needed to summon his wand from its holster.

"Aww…I never knew you cared."

Brian was standing in the doorway looking quite humoured, but Harry after hours of having potions burning his eyes wasn't in the mood for it. "Very funny."

"I thought so," Brian replied with a grin before gesturing for Harry to follow.

Once they were outside, he noticed it was getting dark and stuck close to Brian. "Thanks, Brian."

"About what?" asked with a knowing tone as he led the way out of Knockturn Alley.

Humouring the wizard, Harry went along with it. "Paying for my eyes; you'll have the money once I get it."

After a few minutes, they were out on the main strip of Diagon Alley. "Technically, I didn't pay for them. The bill was charged to the Chudley Cannons vault but the money will be deducted from your vault once you start to practise and playing," Brian corrected, handing Harry the bill that showed what he'd said. "I hope you play as good as you were at trials. Anyway, I better be off before my girlfriend gets worried. You got a way home?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks, Brian. Take care," he answered and half turning to go to The Leaky Cauldron.

"You too, Evans." A moment later Brian disappeared at the apparation point, which prompted Harry to get a move on for the ministry.

It was a quick matter of using the Floo Network, checking in at the security desk, and pressing nine in the elevator before Harry was on the floor of the Department of Mysteries. Today had been a whirlwind of fun, but he had not lost sight of what he needed to do here. Despite the late hour and that everyone was supposed to have left he donned the cloak and approached the door, slipping inside with unexpected ease.

He could have sworn he heard a voice when it felt as though the floor had rotated and a door opened on its own. Edgy from the lack of a challenge in an unfamiliar place, Harry careful entered a room that looked to be as high as Hogwarts' Great Hall ceiling if not higher. The place was dark, but lit by strange blue orbs surround by grey ones.

Taking out his wand he placed it on his palm. "Point Me Voldemort prophecy." It immediately turned towards the right, but only a little meaning he had a way to go yet. If he had to guess this room was probably the length of the Great Hall as well. Being careful not to touch anything, he strode directly down the middle of the aisle until his wand was point direct at a single orb.

Edging closer, he noticed there was a tag attached to the stand the orb was mounted on.

 _T.M.R (L.V) & H.J.P / N.F.L ?_

 _S.P.T A.P.W.B.D_

 _1980_

Seeing Voldemort's and his initials on the tag made Harry's jaw drop. This meant there truly was something going on that he was unaware of. Taking the plunge he picked the orb up and held it palm up. He immediately recognised Trelawney's raspy voice.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._

Harry wanted to smash the damn thing. He knew when his birthday was, he had a bloody scar from Voldemort, his parents died fighting the Dark Wanker, the rest of it was babble right now. "You sentenced me to a life of hell, Trelawney," he growled, getting louder. "What more is going to be thrown at me? The damn kitchen sink?!"

"Impossible."

Harry spun around and instantly he trained his wand towards the source and saw the last person he'd expected.

Himself.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"Stupify! Petrificus Totalus!"

"Protego!" Thunk.

The double hadn't anticipated the second spell and keeled over like a slab of stone. Harry had been on the sanity rollercoaster for too long to care about pleasantries. "You botched the Polyjuice. No scar," he shot, watching as the double looked at Harry's wand. "And poor impersonation, Death Eater," Harry added taking the wand before reducing the binding spell to the shoulders down.

The 'boy' before him looked as though he'd been slapped. "I'm not a-"

"Death Eater?" Harry sharply finished for him; his tolerance for the impossible was wearing thin. "Prove it."

The healthier looking version of himself seemed to glance over Harry's shoulder. "Pull up the sleeve," the double needlessly said. "No mark."

Harry looked over his shoulder but saw nothing. Not dismissing the act, he stood side on so nothing could sneak up on him. Vanishing the sleeve, he saw the double was right. No mark. "Polyjuice would hide it. And glamours," Harry pointed out, keeping his wand trained on the doppelganger. "Why did you follow me?"

"I wasn't following you," the double replied, apparently that was all he was going to say.

"An answer or I'm stunning you and leaving."

The demand shook the double out of it who became frustrated. "Look, I've been here before. Many times."

"Why?"

The double straightened slightly up and shot a glare at Harry. "I've been grilled about some anti-dementor charm, a Gringotts test, eavesdropping on M-Unspeakables, and stealing from my cousin to name a few things," it answered irritably, eyes wandering for a moment.

 _Interesting…_ "That was me. Dudley regularly steals from the kids in Surrey. Call it his karma," he admitted with a one-shoulder shrug, but not loosening the grip on his wand. "Get to the point. Why are you here?"

The double huffed in frustration. "You've got my wand and me petrified from the shoulders down. At least have the decency to point yours somewhere else." The double scowled at him, but Harry wasn't willing to buy the act yet, and the clone saw this. "Hushed conversations about prophecies and me. I wanted to know what secrets they were keeping."

 _Well, I can certainly relate to adults and secrets._ Not saying anything, Harry kept a critical eye on the double's behaviour, and it was pretty lax for the situation right now, especially being body bound. "You're not alone," he stated, watching for a reaction.

The double smirked a familiar look of victory, putting Harry on edge. "They're a shout away," it gloated slightly, a little too slightly.

 _He's bluffing._ "And they don't know you're here," Harry guessed before smiling at the look of surprise which urged him to pushed on. "You're not supposed to be here."

The double rolled his eyes at Harry. "Neither are you by the way you're acting," it retorted hotly, before balling up his fists and glaring at Harry's wand. "If you're not going to use your wand just put it away, let me go and talk like an average person, you git."

Harry barked a single humourless laugh. "And make myself vulnerable? No thanks," he replied incredulously. "I don't trust too easy these days."

"Obviously," The double scoffed and shook his head at Harry. "What could I do to you?" it asked like it was dead obvious.

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly but returning to the point. "You seem to want something."

"Not anymore."

"And what was it?"

"You cursed me, you dolt. Why would I tell you?"

"Because I'm the only one here and you're half petrified," he justified clearly. Seeing this was getting nowhere and chances of him getting caught increasing, Harry thought fast and summoned Dobby.

The elf appeared immediately by Harry's side. "Kind Harry Potter, what yous need?" Harry didn't reply but handed Dobby the crystal ball and gestured for him to take it home. "Yes, Kind Harry Potter sir."

"You!" the double shouted at Dobby who looked a little fearful before popping away.

Harry sighed and looked to the wizard his wand was still trained on. "What about him?" he asked feeling annoyed that he was being held up. He didn't have all night and needed to get back to the shack before he got caught.

"That elf stole my broom!" it vented hotly.

Not wanting an unnecessary fight because he needed help leaving this place, Harry decided to return the conversation to something a little more diplomatic. "If you swear on your magic not to harm me unless provoked, I'll swear the same, and I'll undo the spell. Deal?" Harry offered, seeing the double blink before looking at Harry analytically and coming to some internal decision that Harry wasn't privy to.

"Deal." Gingerly slipping the wand into the petrified hand, Harry kept a sharp eye on his clone before it made the oath. "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that I will not harm the wizard in front of me unless he pulls a fast one." The wand glowed blue for the double. Glancing at the wand when he took it back from the double, Harry saw it was different to his and filed that knowledge away for later. A door creaked open, and Harry pulled his double into a side aisle with him. "Swear, and I'll get you out," the double offered, having seen Harry's panicked expression.

The sound of clicking heels reinforced his need to escape. "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that I will not harm the wizard in front of me unless he pulls a fast one," he incanted, watching as his wand glowed blue. "Finite Incantatem. As for your broom, it was put to good use and returned in the same condition," Harry answered, seeing the double calm at the new information with a hint of curiosity.

 _They both glowed blue. Identical oaths._

"Bollocks," Harry swore under his breath, cutting off the double from saying something.

"What?" the double whispered with evident frustration.

All things considered, the concept wasn't something Harry would discard quickly at the moment and replied. "Our oaths were identical, and the wands glowed blue. What does that tell you?"

"Oh," his presumed counterpart whispered, looking astonished at his clue. "How'd you get here?"

Getting to his feet, Harry watched the other rising as well. "Yeah, and I don't know," he confirmed softly but turning his thoughts to the matter at hand. "Now get me outta here."

"Bossy."

"Well you're not the one in a wild predicament, are you?"

"Touché."

"Sorry, but I've had a trying forty-eight hours." Harry really meant it, following the other Harry out of the Hall of Prophecy and through another door into a room he'd never seen before. Shelf after shelf of parchments and books, making him wonder what this place was. In the centre of the chamber and mounted on a pedestal was a thick tome, giving off the impression of importance. Breathing easier, now that they didn't have company, he nearly jumped when the double spoke.

"What'd you use the broom for?" it asked randomly with genuine interest.

Seeing no harm in replying considering it was already obvious, Harry answered. "I need money and borrowed the Nimbus 2000 for the Chudley Cannons tryouts." There was a look of curiosity so he threw in the result. "I got a first-string position."

The clone had an expression of envy and stepped closer. "Which position? You'll need your own broom; every player does," it remarked, frowning as a problem was clearly on his mind.

Harry, on the other hand, was flabbergasted, and something within him was slowly coming to terms with the situation. "What the hell do you mean which position? _Anybody_ would know what I play," he remarked vaguely wondering if he could get some answers about the double before him.

"Well, I obviously don't. What position?" Apparently, he wasn't going to make it easy for Harry.

"Seeker," he answered as it rolled off his tongue and lowering his wand arm slightly. "I got Gudgeon's spot."

The healthier version of himself started cracking up laughing before widening his eyes and quickly muffling the noise. "I hope you're decent; he's bloody hopeless."

It was strange how the conversation between them had changed from an anticipated confrontation to small talk about Quidditch in a setting such as the Hall of Prophecy. "We had ten seek-offs. Too easy in my opinion," he supplied, discreetly looking around for hints of any company in the unlit hall.

"Wait, you need money?" the double replied before shaking his head at the obvious fact. "That'd explain the inheritance test. Where are you staying?" it asked with sincere interest, but not of the malicious kind.

This conversation was beginning to drag, and Harry had a quick glance around before looking back. "Why aren't you edgy? We're talking about Quidditch in the Department of Mysteries. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?" Harry suggested, shifting on his feet as he expected something to happen, leading the other to do the same. "If what I'm seeing is genuine, why aren't you freaking at the sight of me?"

The other just shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. It's kinda expected to see unusual things in this place," it commented dismissively. "You'd have cursed me with a dark spell long before now if you meant it and I got more answers than I was looking for anyway."

This time Harry was the curious one. "How so?"

"You look like you're about to go nuts-"

"Thanks," Harry interjected.

"-and earn a bed in a St Mungo's long-term ward," the other finished.

He instantly grimaced. "I'm not far from it," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What?"

It was tempting to do an eye roll, but so far things were peaceful, so Harry refrained and answered. "How would you be if you were suddenly homeless, friendless, seeing people who you knew had died years ago, and now you're broke?"

It was almost a look of pity from the double, which got under his skin before realising things weren't the same here. "Oh…so Dobby's your only friend then?"

He nodded. "And one muggle girl in Surrey," he added with the thought of Jennifer.

"No bloody wonder you're so on edge," it remarked with little tact. _Are you coming to this conclusion now?_ However, it didn't appear that the thought had just occurred to the other, rather he reaffirming Harry's situation. Entertaining the thought that things were highly contrasted, Harry launched into a quick summary for the double.

"I've had Voldemort after me my whole life. Nearly every Hogwarts year he's tried to kill me. First year: Possessing a teacher and tried to kill me. Second year: A basilisk petrifying people and ordered it to kill me. Third year: not Voldemort, but Dementors wouldn't leave me be. Fourth year: Polyjuiced Death Eater gets me forced into competing in the Triwizard Tournament, Wormtail killed Diggory before slashing my arm and using my blood to resurrect the Dark Wanker, and I had to fight him to escape. Now I know a prophecy explaining why he tried to kill me as a baby."

"Shit," it murmured in shock.

Harry shook his head. "Tell me about it," he grumbled before snapping up his head. "Wait, why am I telling you this?"

"Needed to rant?" the double suggested, shifting on his feet for a moment with a solemn look.

"Probably," he assumed with a shrug. "Look, I'm not sticking around much longer. Get me outta here, and I'll give the wand back," Harry offered, figuring the double would be all for it.

His counterpart didn't seem bothered by the retort. "Forget it. It makes sense. What name are you using now anyway? You said you got a spot with the Cannons."

"Hadrian Evans," he replied with difficulty not saying 'Harry Potter'. _That's going to take some time getting used to._

"Not bad. Middle name?"

Harry just shrugged and looked to the other as he followed the lead to the book. "Haven't needed one yet."

"Should probably decide, though," his double suggested, looking thoughtful and running a hand through his hair.

"True. I was going to leave it as James though," he replied, feeling a bit reluctant at the thought of changing it.

"Too similar," his double shot down quietly. "Use Charlus."

Harry couldn't resist the urge to raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Charlus? Why?"

"Charlus Potter, our grandfather," was the calm response, but Harry's shock must have shown. "What? Why do you look so surprised?"

"I never knew about my family besides Mum and Dad," Harry murmured a little sadly that he'd never met a Potter aside from the one in front of him, who in essence was himself. _That's disorienting. I could have grown up to be this guy instead once. Thanks, Wormtail._ He scowled at the thought of the traitor.

His doppelganger raised his eyebrows and murmured "So few?" There was definitely pity this time, but he didn't mind it too much.

Shaking his head, Harry looked to his other self. "The Dursleys raised me. Never spoke about my magical family without insulting Mum and Dad."

He'd flinched as though struck by Harry's answer. "Ouch. That bad?"

"Yeah. Utter anything remotely sounding like it was magic meant I had no food for a day if not more." _This guy has no idea of the hand he almost got dealt._

"That's abuse!"

Harry just shrugged. "They're not that bad. Dudley would beat me up before I started Hogwarts but that's about it." _Why am I defending them?_

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Hadrian, but withholding food is abuse."

He snapped up from his downward grimace and looked to the double. "Hadrian?"

"Well I can't go calling you 'Harry' now, can I?" the double replied. "It's my name, and if I call you Harry I'm going to think you're around when I hear someone else say it."

 _True._ Hadrian mentally concede before he sniggered for a moment.

"What?"

With a knowing grin, Hadrian shared the amusing thought. "Imagine the havoc the Weasley twins would wreck in this scenario?"

His counterpart doubled over and did his best to muffle his laughter at the idea. Clearly, the twins were the same here. "Nice one! Drive Mrs Weasley mad probably. Fred and George would be _so_ envious." he commented sounding almost tempted.

"What's this place? You never said what it is. Why aren't we in the hallway I came from?" Hadrian enquired, looking for any other doors.

The other boy got to the point and dipped an unusual quill into an open inkpot. "Hall of Records. Might as well get you added to the register of British wizards and witches."

"So how...?" Hadrian murmured, accepting the strange quill from the other Harry.

"Draw a line on your date of birth; space will appear then you need to write your fake one." That answer made Hadrian stop short with a sense of guilt. "What's the matter?"

Turning to the scar-free Harry, Hadrian gave a murmured answer with a tone of longing. "I've always been proud of my parents; even if I never met them…I don't want to give up the surname. I don't have a lot to remember them by. I remember their deaths when I was fifteen months old. That's it."

The other looked a little disturbed at the new information and glanced around the room as though trying to find a solution. "Oh…um. Sorry, I-"

Hadrian shook his head, bringing his counterpart to a stop who looked more than ready to continue arguing. "It's okay. I have to."

"Wait," the lucky one stopped him by gripping Hadrian's wrist. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

 _No, but._ "I can't go around pretending to be you, can I?" Hadrian justified, knowing he was already turning the other's life upside down by simply being here.

"There's gotta be something we can do."

Hadrian shook his head and quickly added 'Hadrian Charlus Evans' to the register underneath the existing 'Harry James Potter'. It felt like the final nail in a coffin when he did it. Shaking off the feeling and gestured for them to go. "Come on. We'll get caught soon enough."

His luckier self was looking bothered by the sentimental sacrifice Hadrian had just made. "You shouldn't have given it up if it meant that much to you."

"I'm not messing things up for you," Hadrian argued, not wanting to be a burden. "I'll stay out of the way," he promised.

"I know how stubborn I am," the double grumbled before navigating the Department of Mysteries with ease and didn't notice when Hadrian swiped a time-turner while leading Hadrian out to the rotating room with its many doors and exiting the department altogether. "Alright, we're out."

Hadrian faltered, feeling a little awkward. "Thanks, uh…"

"Harry."

"This is going to be weird," Hadrian murmured under his breath.

"Tell me about it. Where are you staying anyway?" the other asked "Voldemort isn't obsessed with me as yours was, but he's called You-Know-Who for a reason. You fought off his dementors yesterday."

Hadrian couldn't stop himself from repeating Dumbledore's phrase. "Fear of a name-"

"increases fear of the thing itself," his counterpart finished for him without a hitch. "Mum says it to Iris a lot."

"Iris?" Hadrian parroted in confusion before turning solemn. _Oh, right._ The idea and desire of a sister had often plagued his thought during his visits to the Burrow, watching the interaction between his friends with their parents and each other.

"Our sister," the other confirmed with an expression of remorse and gripping Hadrian's shoulder. "I should have guessed. Sorry, Hadrian."

Hadrian shrugged the hand off. "It's…don't worry about it. It's nothing."

"Bullshit!" the double retorted hotly before looking guilty again. "But where are you staying?"

"Shrieking Shack," Hadrian replied, keeping an eye out for anyone in the hallway to the elevator.

The double looked surprised at the answer he been given. "Seriously? It's close to Hogwarts; I'll give you that, but you need a safe place."

"What?" Hadrian said defensively. "I have no money and nowhere else to go."

"I get that, but it'll be a full moon next week," the double explained to Hadrian, looking thoughtful and eyes lighting up when it thought of something. "You'll need a new place regardless. Moony will pick up the scent and recognise it which will blow your cover."

"Oh, no," Hadrian opposed, backing away from his counterpart. "I see where this is going. Are you _mad_? I'm not hiding in your house. I'll be drugged to the eyeballs with Veritaserum the second I slip up and get seen by them."

The double smiled mischievously. "I never had hiding from our parents in mind. I know you're me."

"But they don't," Hadrian pointed out, but became disappointed when the healthier Harry didn't change his determined expression. "You're serious?"

"No, that's Padfoot."

Not particularly in the mood for jokes like that, Hadrian cut through the humour like a hot knife through butter. "Haha. Now, really, what do you have in mind?"

His counterpart shook his head ruefully. "Potter Manor. Seriously."

"Don't you think they'd be the least bit freaked out? Don't get me wrong. I want to meet them, I've always wanted to but it'd rattle them, and they have you."

"Shock them?" the double said rhetorically. "Probably, but you know how mums are."

"Uh, I don't, sorry," Hadrian murmured, seeing his healthy clone look crestfallen.

"Oh…I meant she'd probably accept you."

Blinking a few times, Hadrian quickly changed the subject. "Look, I'm going to the shack and will think on it, alright?"

"Be careful, Hadrian. I'll see you tomorrow at the shack." The lucky one wished him, clasping his shoulder.

Hadrian felt awkward but returned in kind. "Uh yeah, you too…Harry," he said, half turning towards the elevator. "I better go."

 _Bloody hell, I really am in a different world. And my parents. They're alive, but they belong to Harry Potter. Not Hadrian Evans._

A little saddened by having to accept he may have to watch the parents of another Harry from afar, Hadrian entered the elevator and closed his eyes.

"Tomorrow!" the other boy shouted to him from the corridor. "Oh, hi Mum."

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" he heard Lily Potter shout as the elevator door closed.

A tear slipped through Hadrian's defences.

* * *

It was late into the night at Hogwarts and Albus Dumbledore was pacing within his study, no longer looking at the scrying bowl residing on his desk. He'd sent Sirius and Remus to the Department of Mysteries when he'd witnessed Harry enter the Hall of Prophecy. For Harry to learn of his fate this way hadn't been what Dumbledore had planned and the ashen and betrayed look on Harry's face when he located the prophecy made shame run through Albus' veins.

He would have gone to the Department of Mysteries to speak to Harry, however, on the day Harry should have returned to the Dursleys all of his trinkets connected to Harry had gone haywire, died or exploded. Naturally, his response to the matter was paying the Dursleys a visit to see what had happened. However, he'd been shocked to learn that the blood ward was no longer present; as though the magic had never been there.

Fearing for Harry's life, Dumbledore sent patroni to all of the available members of the Order of the Phoenix, tasking them with searching and keeping an eye out for the boy. Sirius immediately took to the streets in dog form, frantically searching for his godson in Surrey before expanding the area to the other suburbs. Remus had attempted to send a short missive with a portkey to Harry with a post owl which just refused to take off. The werewolf had gone to the Weasleys where Harry's owl Hedwig had taken up residence, but even the faithful snowy owl didn't take flight.

The implications were unthinkable, but he hadn't given up hope. He'd resorted to a less reliable form of finding a person by gathering a trace of Harry's DNA and using it to activate the scrying bowl.

While all other possible methods of locating the boy were used, even going as far as having Severus listen for any word within Voldemort's ranks, Albus watched Harry and often sent Sirius or Remus to the locations shown within the bowl. They had gone as far as asking the muggle girl he'd seen in the bowl if she'd ever met Harry Potter, but to their dismay, she denied it and possessed not traces of being obliviated.

Sirius' patronus appeared before Dumbledore. "He's not here, Albus."

Getting an idea he sent a reply, remembering how Harry had taken the prophecy from the department.

A moment later Remus' patronus appeared. "The prophecy is still on the shelf, Headmaster, but it's not blue. It's grey. It's void."

"I want to find my godson, not a bloody prophecy, Dumbledore!"

A quick thank you was sent to both men, the old headmaster sat down and looked to Fawkes in desperation.

He'd sent Fawkes on the search as well, but just like the Order, the fiery bird hadn't been able to find the boy to the dismay of both of them.

With the prophecy now void, it implied that Harry was by all accounts dead. As all predictions faded to grey when the persons concerned were no longer able to fulfil it, or it was completed. And to his knowledge, Tom Riddle was alive and well. Otherwise, Severus would have returned with the news of the Dark Lord's death. If Harry had been killed at Voldemort's hand, the world would know and be graced by the horrors Tom Riddle and his followers had become.

Interweaving his fingers and he genuinely hoped Harry Potter was still alive and well so they may be able to find him.

May Tom never learn the prophecy was void, or Albus would have to make a hard choice. Search for Harry and leave the innocents vulnerable, or protect the innocents against Tom and leave Harry at risk.

He silently prayed he would never have to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

 **Heart's Desire**

 **Chapter 4**

 _Within a chamber nearly the length of the Great Hall and decorated with snake pillars and the face of a man, Hadrian spotted his best friend's sister on the marble floor with a diary nearby and ran over towards the statue at the end. "Ginny?" Racing down the chambers and pass the pillars, Hadrian dropped to his knees "Ginny! Please don't be dead. Wake up! Wake up! Please wake up."_

" _She won't wake," commented the voice of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle._

Shooting up into a seated position, Hadrian frantically looked around before realising where he truly was; The Shrieking Shack.

His skin was slick with sweat, and the bedding was an utter mess from tossing in his sleep. However, none of it mattered to Hadrian as he threw the sheets aside and took off down the trap door to Hogwarts as he shoved on his healing glasses with his wand in hand. Running until he had to stun the Whomping Willow, Hadrian swore under his breath for leaving his most valued behind. Summoning his cloak and map he soon called for Dobby.

The house elf was immediately by his side. "Kind Harry Potter sir?"

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "Hadrian Evans, Dobby," he gently chastised. "No one must know my real name."

"Dobby is sorry."

Giving the elf a quick smile, he made sure no one was around despite the early hours of four am. "That's alright, just try to remember, okay?"

"Yes, Kind Hadrian Evans sir."

Getting to the point, Hadrian quickly requested Tom Riddle's diary which the elf retrieved for him promptly. "Thanks, Dobby. Do you remember the room in Jennifer's house where I slept? You do? Good. I need you to put a Notice-Me-Not on that room and take everything I have in the Shrieking Shack there."

"Yes, Master Hadrian Evans sir. Dobby feels foul magic in the diary, just like Master's scar."

 _Master Hadrian Evans? That's a new one. A new name every day. Keep me on my toes, I guess. His real masters are the Malfoys._

Shaking away the thought, Hadrian snuck into the castle again once he'd silenced his shoes with a spell and kept a careful eye on the map just in case Dumbledore was wondering around at this ridiculous hour. Those bloody enchanted glasses.

 _The magic in Voldemort's diary is the same as my scar? The magic that nearly brought sixteen-year-old Riddle to life again? Shit, that's a frightening thought. An essence of Voldemort is in me?_

"I think I'm going to be sick," Hadrian murmured to himself before taking off at a run to the nearest toilets and threw up last night's dinner until there was nothing left. "Riddle almost resurrected himself that night. Using that diary. And my scar might do the same? But _what_ is in me exactly?"

Wondering the halls with no destination in mind now that he had a fully functional Voldemort diary in hand, he followed the mild compulsion he had ignored in second year and climbed the stairs until he was looking at the place he'd run from not days ago. However, instead of a door, it was a blank wall, and behind it, something was pulling him here. He searched for a hidden door or some trigger like a crevice that needed his blood, but it was all for naught. Eventually, his frustrations made standing still to think become impossible, so he paced in front of that same wall with his mind fixated on the compulsion.

The sound of stone against stone made Hadrian look up, and he spotted an old but large looking set of doors. Once sure no one was around to see him he opened it and saw mountains of various items inside. "What a load of junk. What the hell am I supposed to find in this place?" Summoning Dobby again, he apologised for the ridiculous hour and enlisted the elf's help to find anything of value to sell and put the proceeds into his vault with explicit instruction to start once he was well rested.

Walking deeper into the room and taking note of its content, Hadrian weaved around the many rows until the pull he felt was at its strongest.

Resting not from far from the bust of an ugly old warlock, was a tiara that looked like a discoloured silver eagle. The urge to touch it was strong and akin to that of Barty Crouch Jr's Imperious curses. Taking several steps back, Hadrian looked around in alarm and soon noticed a black vapour rising from the piece of jewellery, as well as a second, significantly larger, cloud emerging from the diary in his hands. Tossing the diary on the floor, Hadrian made to run but stumbled and tripped when freezing cold vapour began piercing his forehead.

Hadrian screamed as he felt heated agony while the two vapours wedged themselves into his scar, blending with something else and intensifying his scar. Whatever that vapour was delivered pain beyond his Cruciatus experiences and he mentally begged for it to stop as he moaned on the floor. Glimpses of other ornate discoloured objects and a snake flittered within his mind for a moment before he tried focussing on where he was.

It seemed to do the trick, but consequently, the full pain of his concussion came to the forefront of his thoughts. "Merlin, my head. Why didn't I fight it off…?"

He slipped into unconsciousness despite the red liquid staining his face.

" _You allowed the presence of a mere boy in Diagon Alley to be the deciding factor against those pathetic Aurors!" he shouted in a fury, stalking around a cowering man in Death Eater regalia. "Another display of error, Regulus Black, and I won't be so tolerant. Now get out of my sight!"_

" _Yes, Master."_

 _The Death Eater retreated from the throne room, leaving him alone to ponder and plan. "The original circle never had such failures," he murmured to himself, glancing at a large python/king cobra cross breed which slithered over and up onto his shoulder. He looked out the window and had a well-aged face of Diary-Riddle._

 _.:Do you want me to bite him?:. the snake offered._

 _He shook his head. .:You amuse me, Nagini, but not yet:._

" _My Lord!" a different man urgently called from the threshold of the room._

 _Turning to face them, he smirked at the recoil by his Death Eater at the sight of Nagini. "You bear news, Rookwood?"_

 _The Death Eater came forward and knelt before his lord. "It's been taken from the Department of Mysteries, my lord. The prophecy."_

 _He tensed at the news and fingered his wand. "Go on," he advised slowly._

 _Rockwood shivered slightly but nonetheless obeyed. "In the last forty-eight hours, it's reverted to blue. Validity. In the last six, it was stolen from the Hall of Prophecy," Rookwood finished with a tone of fear._

You are right to fear me, Augustus Rookwood. _He thought to himself._

" _And the culprit, Rookwood?" he ordered, feeling a tinge of fear towards a potential threat._

" _I wasn't present, my lord."_

" _CRUCIO!"_

Hadrian writhed on the stone floor, biting his lip in the hope of nobody hearing him toss in response to the spell's aftereffects. He'd felt such pain before and experience had taught him that riding it out did more favours than trying to fight it off, but he did not scream. The pain slowly abated, and with laboured breath, Hadrian sat up and looked to the two objects that must have brought this on. He wouldn't be able to run again for a while at least, so summoned the creature that'd detected the foul magic in the first place.

"Master Hadrian, sir," Dobby responded before gaping at what must be a horrible sight. "You's hurt?"

Hadrian couldn't help the ironic chuckle that escaped him. The tables had turned it seemed. "A little, Dobby. Could you get me a pain reliever or something to counter the Cruciatus curse?"

The elf gave a feverish nod and immediately disapparated and was back within moments. "Anti-Cruciatus, Kind Master Hadrian."

Downing the horrid potion in one and putting the vial aside, Hadrian focussed on Dobby. "Are you hurt, Dobby? Anything that needs healing?" he offered, grateful for what the little guy had done for him so far.

"Dobby needs not healing."

Gently nodding his head and soon regretting it, Hadrian pointed to the diary whether and the tiara. He needed to know whether basilisk venom was still necessary. "Are those items cursed or have bad magic, Dobby?" The elf tottered over and looked at each with a look of confusion but shook his head.

"Boths now clean, sir. Master's scar is very dirty. More dirty than before."

 _Great…So I've what? Adsorbed more of what was in my scar? Fan-bloody-tastic._

Hadrian groaned but regretted the action. "Okay, Dobby," he started slowly. "Can you get me a small dose of skelo-grow? I hit my head." The elf nodded but didn't leave instantly. "Once you've done that I want you to put those two things in my vault. Here's my key."

"Yes, Kind Master."

Casting Scourgify followed by Episkey, he was soon resting on the stone floor and accepted the skelo-grow but bit back the urge to groan when the paining effects kicked in. A moment later the diary and the tiara, or diadem as Dobby had called it, were gone and on their way to his vault. There wasn't much of a safer place for valuables than Gringotts Bank. The Chamber of Secret perhaps, but there was no telling if the basilisk was Voldemort's ally or not. Especially considering the fact Hadrian knew for sure the sick bastard was alive and kicking in this world.

Had he'd been in his world, Hadrian would be raging with Dumbledore right now. The prophecy's tag had Dumbledore's five-lettered initials on it and all through school the old wizard never entrusted him with the truth of his life. He'd asked why Voldemort was intent on killing him, but got only riddles and had to find out for himself. He'd shown the man trust repeatedly, but never got a full answer, especially about his scar and ability to speak to snakes. Transfer of powers, Dumbledore said.

 _More like transfer of essence. I can see what Voldemort is doing, for Merlin's sake. I can hear his thoughts, feel his emotions._

 _It's like…_

 _No…_

 _No way in hell! If I see my Dumbledore again, I'll tear him a new one about damned secrecy!_

 _If he can withhold information like that, I do not trust this Dumbledore either._

Irate with the new knowledge, Hadrian fled from the room, not giving a damn about being seen and raced back to the shack until he was sitting on the bed and feeling his face drain of colour. "No, no. So fucked up. Dumbledore's bloody secrets. Why? Voldemort's soul? Sick bastard's soul in my body. How? Screwed up, so screwed up," he murmured to himself, wanting to scream his frustration. His breath quickening. The glass window smashing as everything rattled.

"Hadrian?"

Jumping up and drawing his wand, he nearly fell over in the process but seeing Harry Potter before him made him snap out of it for the moment. "You're in danger!" he blurted out earning a confused looked. "You and Neville. Voldemort knows the prophecy is valid again. Augustus Rookwood told him. My scar gives me visions. He knows."

Harry came over and put the Nimbus on the bed. "Visions? Like Trelawney?"

"Yes and no, I see through Voldemort's eyes. His words; his thoughts; emotions. You have to warn Neville!" Hadrian urged, becoming frantic and pacing the small shack before Harry shoved him onto the bed and slapping him soundly.

"Calm down, or I'm taking you to Dumbledore," Harry demanded, drawing his wand which alarmed Hadrian.

 _NO!_

Seconds later, Hadrian felt as though he'd been shoved through a tube too skinny to fit him and crashed onto a different bed his hand on top of a broom that could only be Potter's Nimbus. Looking around the room, he recognised it as Jennifer's spare room.

"What in God's name, it's six in the morning…Harry?"

Looking up at the teenage girl, Hadrian saw his only human symbol of normalcy and didn't resist as she took him in her arms, rubbing his back.

"Shhh, it's okay. Slow breaths. That's it," Jennifer muttered into his ear while he shook with each breath. Moving the broom onto the floor, she held him again and laid the pair of them down, continuing to rub his back. "Mum won't find out. Dobby told me about the privacy spell. You're safe here," she murmured reassurances and continuing to do so until he fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Fiddling with a dry quill and tossing it onto yesterday's incomplete report in his Auror cubicle, the mentally busy man thought about the continuous casualties this ongoing war brought on. Frankly, he was surprised there were as many witches and wizards left; it would only be a matter of time before Voldemort moved from eliminating muggleborns and onto halfbloods, the damned hypocrite. Not that many people knew that little fact. Just the Order members and a few with a brain between their ears.

"Prongsie!"

Snapping out of morbid musing, James looked up at the cheery face of his brother in all but blood, who was sticking his head into the cubicle. "Padfoot," he acknowledged. "What's up?"

Sirius donned in his Auror uniform grinned and tossed a wizarding newspaper onto his desk, before opening it to the sports section. "Looks like junior's been up to some mischief making. Look at the Chudley Cannons article," the fellow Marauder directed with an undertone of laughter.

 **Daredevil Youth to Play Nationals**

 _Yesterday morning, a young but promising Quidditch player, Hadrian Evans, wiped the pitch with Gudgeon in a series of ten seek-offs. Any doubts the crowd had of this Nimbus 2000 wielding fourteen-year-old boy swiftly vanished after witnessing Evans mercilessly defeat Gudgeon in less than an hour with professional grade Wronski Feints and other death-defying stunts. Manager Dorkins strategically had no choice but to contract Evans onto the first-string team. Evans has a way to go but could he become the next Krum? Will his Nimbus be enough for today's game?_

James skimmed the article and picked up the paper to looked at the photo. "He's strikingly similar, but this Evans kid is too skinny to be Harry. Besides, Harry's a chaser," he argued while trying to think what was niggling within his mind. "Hang on!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Padfoot got out of the way and followed James who was leading the way to the cafeteria. "What? You see something, James?"

Casting a privacy ward around them, James spoke his mind. "Remember the patronus kid?" he commented to Sirius, who's eyes lit upon in recognition.

Sirius' grey eyes lit up. "Yeah, your secret admirer. Fled when Mad-eye assumed he was Harry. I would never have considered a bloody house-elf to escape," he grumbled lightly with a hint of approval at the original means to flee.

James could remember the incident pretty well. Diagon Alley was in a right state, and all but the Aurors and one kid fought to protect the others. The child's repertoire of spells was somewhere between that of a fourth and fifth Hogwarts student and brushed off an Imperio without realising he'd been hit with it by a Death Eater. The way he maintained the patronus while shouting for lingering shoppers to leave spoke volume of the boy's ability. But was it strength born of necessity or raw skill? The kid acted like a survivor.

His speed of casting was on par with the Auror cadets, and the creativity of using an invisibility cloak to slip behind the Death Eaters to disarm them showed he'd been in tight spots before and could wriggle out of them. The use of banishing spells with the debris and casting Bombarda to produce a cover for escape were acts of a fighter who'd been forced to think outside the box before with limited knowledge. If only the Auror Academy had drills for making smart snap decisions the newest to the DMLE wouldn't get cut down so quickly.

It had been a shock in Diagon Alley when James got a good look of the kid's face, and for a moment he thought it was Harry before Remus muttered in a reminder that Harry was grounded and ought to be at home.

He especially remembered snapping at Frank when he had suggested the prophecy. He would never wish to heap Britain's problems onto a single boy, be it Neville or Harry. Only a select few knew about the prophecy that's become void within years of it being made.

James nodded thoughtfully. "At least we know where we can find him. But let's see what we can dig up first, Padfoot."

The fellow animagus had an eager air about him."Sounds like a plan, Prongs. I'll dig in Improper Use files," Sirius volunteered before turning towards the DMLE sub-division – Improper Use of Magic. "I'll give you anything I find later."

"Thanks, Padfoot. I'll do a little snooping at Hogwarts," James replied cheerily and saw Sirius pout at missing an opportunity. "Have fun with those files. I'll give Minnie your love."

"Oh piss off," Sirius grumbled looking a bit put out.

James could only laugh in memory of how much they'd driven Minerva up the high walls of Hogwarts. "Aww…don't be like that, Sirius," the Marauder teased before heading off for the fireplace

"You better find something, Prongs!"

He grinned and gave a nod of promise. "Anything I find will reach your ears first."

"Better," Sirius repeated before disappearing around the corner.

Considering his little expedition to Hogwarts was not in his official capacity, James used the Floo to the Three Broomsticks and apparated into the Shrieking Shack, which looked nothing as it should causing him to activate his wand holster instinctively. "What's going on here?" he murmured to himself within the empty but well-kept shack, keeping an eye out for any threats as his eyes brushed over the lacking contents of the room. Pulling out his two-way mirror, James spoke the password as he went down the stairs and proceeded along the tunnel. "Sirius Black."

There wasn't an immediate reaction, but ten seconds later Padfoot's head appeared in the mirror. "Prongsie, mate. Did you find something?"

James hesitated when he thought about the oddity but got on with it. "I've found something, but it's not on parchment. Well, sort of."

Sirius was immediately interested. "Well? Spit it out."

"It looks like someone is living in our shack, mate. Sparsely, though," he added.

Padfoot raised on intrigued eyebrow. "So, what was there?"

"A letter was written in code," he rallied after reading through it again. "The letter was written by a teenage girl in the tone and writing of it. Muggle paper, too."

"What'd it say?"

"Talked about being a runaway, getting a job for teenagers, special words and fate," he explained before letting out a frustrated breath. "It's like a wonky piece of a puzzle, Padfoot. It seems to fit the criteria, but there's no proof it's Evans. The code name of the receiver was 'Chivalrous,' which was the way Evans acted in Diagon Alley, but there's nothing else that makes it fit. What if it's someone else?"

"A magical runaway with a muggle friend, interesting." Sirius seemed to be sitting down. "Well, you did better than me, Prongs. It's like the kid doesn't exist."

"What?"

Sirius's hand waved near one corner of the mirror. "Yeah, me too, James. Buggered if I know."

Running his spare hand through his hair, James sighed. "Not an easy one, eh?" he remarked, ruefully shaking his head. "Have you tried the Dept of Magical Education? The kid's too young to have taken OWLs, but there could be something. Subject grades maybe," James suggested as he tried to think of anything else. He doubted Hogwarts provided the Ministry with the grades of non-OWL or NEWT studies, but he didn't know what else could be found at the ministry.

Sirius shrugged in partial defeat. "Maybe. Either the Evans kid is a goody-two-shoes like Lily, or there's more to this than we know." When Sirius didn't immediately disappear from view, James gestured for him to get on with it. "Thinking."

James grinned despite the struggle with the mystery kid. "I didn't know you could think beyond women and wands, Padfoot," he teased.

"At least I don't have to beg for a date, Prongs. Now I won't tell you."

"Aww, come on. That's a bit low but completely worth it. What's on your mind, Sirius?" By this time, he'd reached the Entrance Hall doors and disillusioned himself and charmed a Not-Me-Not on the mirror. "Don't be bitter, Padfoot," he teased. "There was a mention of not trusting someone in the letter, but it didn't say who."

"Doesn't make bloody sense to me."

"I'm with you there, Sirius."

* * *

He felt rather befuddled as meaningless images flitted across his mind again. Blinking a few times he realised his sight was now worse than it had been before his procedure in Knockturn Alley.

 _Was Voldemort's essence damaging his eyes in some way?_ It was the only assumption that made sense. Looking around he spotted an arm around his stomach and realised Jennifer was holding him on the bed in the spare room.

"What happened? How'd I get here?" he murmured, looking around for the healing glasses from Felicia's store before spotting them and sliding them on, the ache wearing from them had increased in intensity, but he wasn't about to complain when he could inquire about it later.

"I don't know," she whispered with a gentle squeeze, spurring his imagination and making heat rise to his cheeks. There was a ruffle behind him as she adjusted her hold. "You teleported onto the bed hours ago and in shock."

That put a halt to his rebellious mind. "I apparated?" he inquired in disbelief.

"If that's what you call it," she replied with a shrug without letting go. He was too mentally tired to insist on morals and getting out of her comfortable hold right now. He felt like hippogriffs had trampled on him. "You muttered about danger and a prophecy in your sleep."

Disregarding the comment on what he'd said during slumber, he focussed on the accidental magic. "Was I holding a wand when I appeared?"

"No, Harry. You appeared holding a broom, though," she clarified quietly with peaked interest. "Does it make a difference?"

He hummed in confirmation as speculation coursed through his mind.

"I take that means a lot?"

"Yeah, Jennifer. Definitely," Hadrian muttered, adjusting himself on the bed and looking over his shoulder to the muggle girl. "Have you had any weird-dressed visitors since I appeared?"

"No. Why?" the girl remarked curiously. "It's Amanda, actually. Jennifer is my best friend's name."

"Oh, alright." He tried to sit up but felt he was more likely to be sick. Instead, he lifted her hand and Amanda quickly caught on before removing it. "Because accidental magic draws the Ministry's attention, and wizards can't blend in for hell. I'm supposed to get a warning letter from the Ministry when it happens. They normally wipe the experience from the minds of Muggles." Running his hand through his hair, Hadrian wondered why there was a difference this time since any other wandless magic he'd done resulted in a letter or the minister.

"They wipe our minds?" She was a bit indignant, and rightfully so. The idea of having his mind wiped would have riled him up.

Slowly nodding, he managed to sit up on his back partially and looked to Amanda beside him. "Magic-only stuff. Nothing else."

The raven haired girl raised an eyebrow before offering a glass of water. "That statute rot?"

He nodded and wet his parched throat. "Yeah, it's how we hide without living underground."

"Oh, um right," she replied with a slight tone of guilt and shook her head. Looking up, she tried to put on a smile but failed miserably. "Maybe you tele- apparated on purpose?"

"I…good point, I didn't have plans on coming here, but this was the first place I thought of," he admitted before sitting up completely and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "It's not your fault that my kind have to hide." The look on her face told him she appreciated the gesture and the bothered look faded slightly. "But I've never known how to apparate. I've never done wandless magic that was a spell before."

Amanda seemed a little confused before visibly shaking away a thought. "Maybe you could try again?" she suggested as she gazed down and fiddled with her pajama shorts.

Hadrian chuckled darkly, climbing off the bed carefully and retrieving his bright orange robes for today's match. "I could have hurt myself last time," he remarked, swapping his current robe for his uniform with 'Evans' on the back in black. "I'm lucky I didn't, or that would have been a gory mess."

"Oh…" Amanda went over to the desk where his books resided on the opposite side of the room. "I guess appearing out of nowhere could be dangerous," she conceded, taking an interest in one of his books. Taking the opportunity, Hadrian switched his pants in record time. "You literally popped into this room. Like bursting a balloon," she continued while flicking through a book.

Tossing the blank robes onto the bed, Hadrian let out a curious sigh about what this all meant. "Definitely apparation then," he remarked, picking up Potter's broom and coming over before looking over her shoulder. Amanda was looking at pages about using runes in combat, which made him curious. Just because he never applied himself to much of anything other than DADA and spells of necessity, it didn't mean he didn't have the mind to learn. He just suppressed himself out of habit from primary school. "I've heard stories about leaving body parts behind. I'd rather not risk it."

"I can imagine," she murmured sounding a little grossed out before glancing up at him and looking startled for a moment but not looking away.

"Are you alright?" he couldn't help but ask which elected a smile from Amanda. "It's the uniform, isn't it?" Hadrian joked with a grin.

"Perhaps." Amanda's eyes glinted with mirth while her breath was shallow. "Um well…so you got a job?"

Glad for the change of subject, Hadrian went over to his quidditch supplies and started putting on the shin pads and gloves. "It's like football on broomsticks. Seven people per team. Do you remember?"

"Quidditch, right? Umm, keepers, chasers, beaters and seekers?" Amanda picked up the broom and handed it to him, looking a little longing at it.

"Thanks. That's it." Hadrian nodded, smiling. "I earned a seeker position on a national team that wasn't doing too good. The Chudley Cannons. There's a game today at noon." Hadrian felt a little nostalgic as he looked at the Nimbus and recalled the first two and a half years of playing on one. However, there was a sneaking concern that it may hinder him since he'd long grown used to the qualities of his Firebolt. Namely, it's precision in movement.

"Can I watch?"

He snapped his head up from the broom. "I'm sorry?"

"Can I watch?" Amanda repeated, with excitement seeping into her voice. Her blue eyes were blazing as she looked at him almost pleadingly.

Hadrian scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little guilty he hadn't anticipated her wish. "I guess. Just don't make it obvious you're a muggle. Expect anything to happen around you." Grabbing his black robe he tossed it to her. "Put this on over your clothes when we go; it'll help blend you in."

Amanda gently folded the robe in her arms with a contagious smile. "Thanks, Harry."

Hours later, Hadrian was in the locker room standing with determination while his teammates looked doubtful towards him, but he didn't let it get to him. Jenkins and Lloyds were shooting glares at him, apparently still peeved about Hadrian's comments during tryouts. The chasers seemed to be having a silent conversation amongst themselves, while the keeper and captain was looking Hadrian over with a critical eye.

The keeper, Griffith, came over and clasped a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you didn't cheat at the tryouts, Evans, or Dorkins will have your hide."

Hadrian looked at him as though he was an idiot. "You saw me at the practice after tryouts, Griffiths. It was no fluke or potion."

"Good, because we're going on."

Getting into formation, the team climbed the stairs and mounted their brooms and flew out onto the pitch to took their starting positions. Looking to the other team, the Wigtown Wanderers, he could tell the seeker was confident after taking just one look at Hadrian. Amused by the age-based judgment he'd been getting from all sides, he focussed on the chest below as the referee released the bludgers, the snitch and five seconds later threw the quaffle into the air.

Playing on a national level, Hadrian wasn't sure what to expect and kept an eye on the opposing seeker until he spotted a pattern in his movements; circling the pitch while remaining somewhat nearby Hadrian.

From what he was seeing the Cannons chasers were at a disadvantage due to the better technique by the Wanderers. Out of his peripheral vision, Hadrian spotted a bludger heading his way and swiftly dodged. Running interference to help the chasers sounded appealing, but he didn't know just what the Wanderers seeker was capable of and immediately got to work.

They had a Firebolt. He had a Nimbus 2000.

The odds were against him.

But he wasn't going to lose.

In the Leaky Cauldron, Hadrian, wearing his orange and black quidditch robes, was seated with the rest of the Chudley Cannons in celebration of their 170-40 win. Upon seeing just how bad the primary chasers on the team were, he'd become determined to catch the snitch as soon as possible, but it had been a close thing when playing against the Wigtown Wanderers seeker on a Firebolt. Thankfully, his natural skills on a broom helped to balance out the odds and enabling him to catch the snitch.

Having seen the disadvantage the Nimbus 2000 had against a Firebolt, the other team members pooled together some money so Hadrian wouldn't be disadvantaged in their next game, and with no intentions of losing his new broom, Hadrian sent it home via Dobby who'd also returned the Nimbus to Potter. He wondered if his counterpart had brought it to the shack with intentions of lending it to him for the game. Grateful he was for what they'd done, Hadrian understood the consequences involved and primarily spent the rest of the evening with the team until they went their different ways home.

Only actively involving himself in the conversation when he required to, Hadrian kept a watchful eye on the people around them. Upon spotting Ron in the pub looking his way in a manner his Ron had looked at Viktor Krum, Hadrian felt dread as he was forced to remember that he'd lost everything since coming here; Ron, Hermione, and Sirius foremost.

Brian interrupted his train of thought. "What's got you so bothered, Harry? You did great, and Dorkins gave you your performance bonus."

Looking to his reserve chaser friend, Hadrian shook his head. "The opinion of other people is water off a duck's back to me, Brian. I'm just thinking of those I left behind when I came to England. A look-a-like of my best mate is gawking at me in worship, but the guy I know would never do that. It feels wrong to see the stranger stare at me like this," Hadrian explained, subtly gesturing towards the Ron Weasley of this world, electing a sound of understanding from Brian. "Speaking of differences, why is everyone so subdued here? Like a cloud of constant fear." He had a good idea why since he'd seen through the genocidal monster's eyes since arriving here, but he didn't know the full measure of his presence here.

The reserve chaser glanced around and took Hadrian to a secluded corner of the pub. "You-Know-Who." At Hadrian's fake look of confusion, he clarified. "Lor- Lord Volde- Voldemort," Brian murmured with a look around to see whether someone had overheard them speak. "Any muggleborns or a person who denies him what he wants becomes a target and soon killed. His grip here is forever tightening, Harry."

Raising an eyebrow at the resigned tone of Brian's voice, Hadrian had to ask. "Don't they realise they far outnumber the killer and his henchmen? And I _am_ a muggleborn, Brian."

His friend's dark chuckle made Hadrian fear the worst. "He's been in power longer than my parents have been alive, Harry. Everyone is cowed."

 _So he never died here? And he targets muggleborns actively? I hope Hermione is alright. I won't leave her to his cruelty._

"Everyone? Surely not," he disputed and saw Brian briefly nod, which riled rebellion within Hadrian's heart. "I will not stand for a tyrant to rule my life. I doubt I'm the only one," he argued looking around Brian for any faces he recalled being Death Eaters in his world.

Brian put a hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "Try not to be too vocal, Hadrian. You're more than a quidditch comrade," the older friend advised. Hadrian understood the difference between Brian calling him Harry and Hadrian. At the tryouts that began their friendship, Hadrian asked to be called Harry in person, so he understood the severity of what Brian had said.

Hadrian took in his words and frowned. "I'm an orphan with no family, Brian," he divulged quietly, glad not to see a blue beetle anywhere. "What could he do to me that hasn't happened already?"

The reserve chaser exhaled through his nose before opening his eyes again. "Too many things, Harry. Just be careful what you say and to who. Death Eaters act like snobs or royalty in public."

Not wanting to ruin what had turned out to be a decent day, he nodded in agreement and watched as Brian returned to the extended table where the Cannons were raucously drinking. Instead of following his teammate and first magical friend in this world, Hadrian slipped into the restroom where he changed out of the bright quidditch robes before asking Dobby to take them away and return with something a little more normal.

Looking in the mirror to check his appearance in comparison to Harry, Hadrian stopped and stared for a moment at his lone self before recalling the last time he'd looked at one. The last mirror he'd gazed into was very different one in design but what mattered was the inclusion of his parents. In this world, they were both alive, his counterpart was different enough to be a brother, he had more family yet to meet such as a younger sister, Iris, and possibly others.

Hadrian shook his head in sorrow. "Why are you avoiding them, Harry?" he questioned disapprovingly in a mutter to himself.

The longing to for family in his world had never left him; in fact intensifying each time he saw a reminder of them. The Mirror of Erised had been the first time he saw his parents and felt like a sharp stab in the heart upon learning that seeing was the most he could do; when Dumbledore requested he never sought the mirror again, he was forlorn for weeks.

The photo album made in first year by Hagrid was a beautiful gift, despite the reminder it carried for Hadrian. Of course, he would rather have something to remember them with, but it opened the old wound every time he looked at it.

And a fortnight ago, for mere seconds, he'd seen the ghost-like apparitions of his parents during the fight to survive Voldemort's resurrection.

Now it would simply be a matter of sending a letter to Harry and organise meeting them. His counterpart, after the identical oaths of no harm last night in the Department of Mysteries, had been pretty eager for him to meet the people who would have been his parents in another life.

 _Why am I be so damn hesitant?_

Gripping the sink bench, Hadrian hung his head and closed his eyes.

The situation was quite laughable. Harry Potter of another world afraid to meet people, one of them already knew who he was and would vouch for him. Cerberuses, trolls, acromantulas, basilisks, dementors, dragons, Voldemort. Nope, those hadn't rendered him motionless but he was afraid of meeting what had once been his potential family. Was possible judgement bothering him? Rejection, maybe? What he'd always wanted was now in reach, yet he was too terrified to attempt fulfilling that deep desire.

He was more than willing to become a pain in Voldemort's arse if the monster had done something to Hermione here, since Ron seemed fine, but contacting his parents was suddenly too difficult? Was he seeing the scenario as an exchange of sorts? Hermione and Ron for blood family? It seemed kind of wrong, but there was no way to get his Ron and Hermione back since he had no idea how he got here in the first place.

Shaking his head and striding out of the restroom feeling ashamed, Hadrian went over to his team's table and said a few quick goodbyes before taking his leave.

Once again, Diagon Alley had that weary air about it and Hadrian kept one hand ready to cast and the other grasping his cloak in case another attacked broke out.

"Harry!"

Turning around, Hadrian spotted Brian in his bright orange quidditch uniform hurried over and joined him on the way to Florish and Blotts. "Oh, hey, Brian. What's the matter?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "You, mate. What's bothering you? I noticed you become sullen on the way out."

 _Busted._

"Oh, well…it's kinda complicated," he murmured while leading the way through the bookstore and checking the shelves for anything on soul magic. "Anything complicated is truly a mess," he expanded, trying to deter Brian's interest in the matter but the friend remained without saying a word.

Hadrian was about to start when a twelve-year-old nearly sent him to the floor on their way to the counter, consequently dropping a book but failing to notice.

"Hey!" he called out, book in hand as he closed the gap, irritated by their lack of attention or apology. "Do you mind?"

The young girl didn't even turn around. "You're supposed to be grounded, Harry. You're not one to talk," she retorted as the storekeeper rang up the books.

Taking in what she's said, a thought occurred to him. "I'm assuming you're a Potter?" It felt so strange to be using his former surname in such a manner but it was all he could say without being suspicious.

The raven-haired preteen turned around looking vexed. "What the hell-?"

But before she could say more a woman, unmistakeably Lily Potter, intervened. "Iris," she scolded, immediately capturing her daughter's attention. "I know you inherited your father's mischievous streak, but not that it extended to rudeness."

Effectively embarrassed, the sister-in-another-life turned to face him before looking at him a little shocked. "You're not-"

Taking the lapse in her comment and the silence in the store, Harry was raking his brain on what he needed to say and how to say it without sounding obvious.

"Iris," Mrs Potter repeated, snapping Iris out of her train of thought.

"Sorry," Iris murmured before going over to a redheaded and younger girl, calling her 'Alice'.

Mrs Potter came over looking apologetic, but Hadrian quickly cut her off. "It's fine."

"I'm afraid it's not, Mr Evans?" she half asked, which Hadrian confirmed with a nod. "I thought I taught her better than that."

Hadrian felt sympathetic for a mother of three or more. "You can't be everywhere, Mrs Potter. And please, call me 'Hadrian'."

"If you will call me 'Lily', Hadrian," she offered in turn.

He nodded a little dumbly. "Lily." Feeling a little bothered he blinked and looked over her shoulder before glancing back. "I've heard you are reliable at solving mysteries," he began, hoping it was enough of a prod to spark her attention. Seeing a shift in her posture it urged him to go on "Regularly, involuntarily, I witness events that aren't from my eyes. Is it possible for the other person to see through mine? Can I stop them from seeing my life? Or escape from seeing theirs?" he divulged, before he felt a shiver go up his spine. "It's quite gruesome."

Lily frowned for a moment and gestured for him to follow her. "I don't think there will be a lot here, but there is one art that might help," she murmured, running her fingers over the books spines are she searched the shelves. After a few minutes she made a small cry of success and Hadrian come over to see the book she held out. "My personal favourite. It's easy to follow and has straight forward explanations."

" _Mind Arts for the Beginner_ ," he read aloud, and looking up for an explanation.

Lily nodded fondly towards the book. "What you described is similar to Occlumency and Legilimency. Mind arts to protect or extract memories. The concept is similar to what you described, but if this doesn't help you with your predicament a research facility The Researchers Corner might, but you need at least a Mastery apprenticeship to obtain access."

The limited news was a little disheartening, but grateful that there was at least something that might help, Hadrian nodded with a small smile. "Thank you, Lily."

"You're welcome, Hadrian, but practice it every night. You seem tired, so I imagine it's affecting your sleep?" she guessed to which he shrugged. "Good luck. Alyssa, Iris." Lily called to her daughters. "Let's go home."

"Mrs Potter?"

Lily turned to him with an amused look. "Mr Evans," she replied with a smile, making Hadrian feel a little silly. "Hadrian," she amended kindly.

"Lily, I was wondering if you could pass a message onto the Longbottoms and Professor Dumbledore for me?"

This peaked her interest. "Why not write?" Harry could see where this was going and answered.

"With mail interception I thought by person would be more reliable," he replied while mentally coding his message.

Picking up that the information he had was sensitive she waved her wand. "Muffliato."

"Trelawney has turned blue."

He expected her face to lose colour or something, but she looked only mildly surprised for a second, before an expression of concern aimed towards him. "How did you know that?" she whispered icily, her wand touching his leg.

"The events, Mrs Potter," he began, feeling it was appropriate to be formal for the moment. "I witnessed Augustus Rookwood notify Tom Riddle this morning. Tom Riddle is afraid and believes it to be true, but he doesn't know who it specifically pertains to," Hadrian relayed before realising he'd need to explain how he knew the Longbottoms were involved. "He muttered the beginning of a prophecy to himself after using Crucio on Rookwood for not seeing who took it from the Hall of Prophecy. Riddle mentioned 'the Potters and the Longbottoms' afterwards."

She didn't say anything and only stood there holding him under strong scrutiny. Internally, Hadrian felt like finding a rock and hiding under it, but couldn't look away from her emerald eyes.

"Mrs Potter, I'd never want Wizarding Britian to offload its problems onto a teenager, but it doesn't mean Riddle won't target teenagers. I thought the families should know," he explained, as though he was pleading for her to lift the purposeful gaze from him. It was agonising to be looked at in such a distrustful manner for meaning well, so he tried to hide his mind from the painful emotions.

There was a flitter cups, lockets, rings and cobra crossbreeds before he lost control of his body, but knowing he was placed on a seat.

" _Wormtail," he murmured at the quivering man in the centre of his throne room._

" _M-m-my lord, I've-"_

 _Irritation sparked within him. "Crucio," he incanted and lifted it off a second later. "Each time you speak out of turn, I will hold the Cruciatus longer. Understood?"_

" _Ye-yes, Master."_

Yes, I AM your master, Rat. Had you been selected last time you would have been the perfect rat.

 _Walking around the man once and watching as Pettigrew remained utterly still, he seated himself on the ornate, high back throne. "Your task, Wormtail, is simple. Retrieve the oldest Potter boy."_

 _Wormtail looked saddened but nodded quickly. "Yes master." His servant was about to leave but he didn't purely trust this one._

" _It seems you've learnt your place in_ my _ranks, Wormtail. I am pleased to see this," he gloated, watching the fear in the eyes of the rat._ Yes, Wormtail, I never praise unless it's truly earnt. _"And a reminder of what will happen if you disappoint me. CRUCIO!"_

Hadrian could tell he was being held in place by at least two people, and any words spoken with the store sounded like a faint whisper to him. Shivering from the effects of the Cruciatus curse, Hadrian was forced to fight again the hands trying to help him until enough subsided that his senses were coming back properly.

He expected to wake to the store being in a jungle like state of mayhem with the few people who had been inside, and the girls, Iris and Alyssa, cowering in a corner; but there was nothing like it to be seen. Instead they were inside a stock room.

There was the sound of Brian's footfalls on wood nearby. "Brian," he called out, groaning as he was coming around from the latest vision.

Brian was immediately within Hadrian's line of sight. "Harry? Mate, are you alright? One minute the pair of you were having a staring contest and the next you're having a Cruciatus curse seizure!"

He winced at the volume of Brian's fear. "Sensitive ears," he murmured, rubbing his eyes and sitting up properly. "Where are we?" He didn't recognise the place.

Brian stepped out of the way so he could see the rest of it. "Storeroom of Florish and Blotts."

Crane his sore neck around Hadrian tried to catch sight of Lily, Iris and Alyssa without success. "The Potters?"

"Shepherded the girls out, said thanks and promised to be in contact soon," Brian swiftly answered, sitting himself down on a crate and looking at Hadrian with concern.

Although Brian was his only magical friend, he'd only know the guy for two days tops and had to cover his bases to try and stay off the radar too much. With a pleading expression he more demanded than requested it. "Promise never to speak of this," he said solemnly.

"On my magic, so mote it be," Brian uttered, wand in hand, which too Hadrian by surprise when the blue glow confirmed the oath.

It made him squirm, although he knew he hadn't asked for the Wizard's Oath. "Oh, I didn't mean…well, thanks I guess, Brian." The sudden turn of events with one of the few people he trusted made him worried if he's just destroyed a potential friendship.

Brian shrugged and dragged his crate closer to Harry's chair. "You're welcome, Harry, but there's no such thing as a free lunch," the blonde remarked before raising an eyebrow. "What the hell was that?"

Hadrian felt like he'd never stop explaining himself in this world. _The Life of Harry Potter, 2_ _nd_ _Edition._ Hadrian chuckled darkly at the fitting thought. "The short of it? I can see into Voldemort's mind and he likes to Crucio his followers every chance he gets. Each time he does, I cop it."

The teammate looked mind blown. "Bollocks."

"Yep," Hadrian replied darkly. Brian may have wanted to know what he'd seen, but Hadrian wasn't about to divulge something. He would leave that to the people it concerned. Lack of privacy had been something he'd loathed and wouldn't want someone else to experience the same. Unless it was Malfoy, but the git would be more likely to bask in it, so he wouldn't be doing the prat any such favours.

Brian helped him up off the seat and after a few minutes Hadrian could stand independently. When they emerged from the storeroom there wasn't a great number of people browsing the shop, so only the manager noticed when they reappeared.

"Off to St Mungo's for a check-up?" the storekeeper suggested quietly, to which Hadrian nodded with no intention of going to the hospital whatsoever.

His teammate and friend, looked as though he was going to laugh and held it in until they were outside heading to the Leaky Cauldron. "Mate, I'm getting you a firewhisky. Age be damned," Brian remarked when they passed through the stone archway.

Shaking his head in mirth, Hadrian went along with Brian's plan and was introduced to the strongest drink the Leaky Cauldron had to offer.

"Can I crash at yours tonight?"

"No problem, Harry. So long as you don't barge into the master room you'll be right."

Hadrian couldn't help but feel sorry for the Potter family, Lily witnessed Peter Pettigrew complying to kidnap her son for Lord Voldemort. He almost wished he'd never asked for her help in the bookstore so they could be spared the inevitable pain for a while.

* * *

Inside Potter Manor, James was trying to comfort his worried wife as she paced with her arms tightly crossed in the living room like a caged animal. "Lily." She looked up and the blazing concern in her bright eyes shocked him enough that he blinked before taking her in his arms and sitting the pair of them onto the couch. "I haven't seen you this worried in years. What's happened?"

He could feel her body shake within his grasp, deepening his anxiety. "I told you about the prophecy reactivating?" James nodded. How could he forget? The last two nights consisted of very little sleep as he laid in bed with fear of losing their children to Voldemort and the Death Eaters haunting their dreams. "Someone spoke to me in private not an hour ago, someone who has been too busy to have investigated it, and told me Riddle knows the prophecy is blue again."

James blanched at the implications and silently begged those green eyes for some light at the end of this dark tunnel.

"He told me Riddle believes Harry or Neville is a threat to him after Rookwood informed him about the prophecy…I don't want to lose him, James; any of them." The grip on his shoulder tightened but he didn't remark on it. Seeing the fear etched all over her face felt like a blow, but he would be strong for his family.

"Nothing will happen to them if I can help it, Lily," he reassured with a kiss to the forehead. "Who told you, though?" James asked as he pulled back to get a good look at her face.

There was a tear track but she seemed to be fighting against the urge to breakdown. "The name doesn't matter," Lily commented shakily, holding his gaze. "But I know the information is genuine." He didn't know what to think. Why wasn't she telling him the identity of the informant? "The best way to tell you how I know is to show you. You need to see it for yourself, James. I don't think you'd believe it any other way," his wife insisted, gesturing in the direction of the study.

Letting go and rising to his feet, James was about to go when he saw her closing the Floo Network and murmuring the incantation to activate the blood warding surrounding the manor; something that was renewed every generation. Running a hand through his hair feeling increasingly worried, he took a slow breath wondering what could require the additional measures. Even Sirius wouldn't be able to enter the property right now, but Lily and their family was his top priority. Lily always had a good intuition and if she felt it was necessary then so be it.

When they reached the study, Lily went over to her variation of the typical pensieve was about to take out the memory when he took her hand. "May I?" he offered, his wand shooting from the holster and into his hand. She nodded one and locked eyes with him as he took out the memory with his wand and putting it into the engraved bowl, which lit up and started playing the memory.

"Brace yourself, James. It won't be easy, but the end is the most important part."

In the bookstore with their daughters, the hologram of his wife made small talk with none other than Hadrian Evans until the boy told her of his troubles, for which she retrieved a book that might help him. "Lily…?" It struck him as odd that the pair got on as well as they did in such a short time. And being under Mad-Eye's tutelage, he'd learnt to look at anything with a critical eye.

The woman beside him just shook her head. "Just watch. You needed to hear that to understand the rest."

Keeping his mouth zipped, he witnessed the boy passed on a message for Frank, Alice and Albus within the protection of a privacy spell.

" _Trelawney has turned blue."_

" _How did you know that?" she whispered icily, her wand touching Hadrian's leg._ James could only smile at the fire that blazed within her even now.

" _The events, Mrs Potter," he begun, clearly cowed by the dangerous vibe Lily Potter was giving off. "I witnessed Augustus Rookwood notify Tom Riddle this morning. Tom Riddle is afraid and believes it to be true, but he doesn't know who it specifically pertains to," Hadrian relayed before falling quiet for a moment. "He muttered the beginning of a prophecy to himself after using Crucio on Rookwood for not seeing who took it from the Hall of Prophecy. Riddle mentioned 'the Potters and the Longbottoms' afterwards."_

 _She didn't say anything and only stood there holding him under strong scrutiny. The poor boy looked as though he wanted to run and hide, but seemed frozen in place by Lily's eyes._

" _Mrs Potter, I'd never want Wizarding Britian to offload its problems onto a teenager, but it doesn't mean Riddle won't target teenagers. I thought the families should know," he explained, as though he was pleading for her to lift the purposeful gaze from him. The boy seemed pained by the distrustful manner she stared although he'd seemed to have only told her out of goodwill._

 _[The boy's face lost all emotion as though hiding all hints of personality and shortly after started twitching in a pained manner. A Chudley Cannon's player, looking panicked, assisted in getting the boy in a private location.]_

The projection of the store moved up and a second and larger projection appeared at their eye level. "Lily?"

"I was using Legilimency on him at the time, and saw he spoke the truth about the prophecy," she shared sadly. "Here it appears that Hadrian slipped into Riddle's mind and took me with him but I didn't lose bodily control as he'd done."

 _There was a flitter cups, lockets, rings and cobra crossbreeds before there was a new setting; that of a mansion._

" _Wormtail," he murmured at the quivering man in the centre of his throne room._

" _M-m-my lord, I've-"_

Earlier he'd felt fear for his fellow Marauder, but now there was only dread. Turning to Lily, she didn't say anything and gestured to the projection while squeezing his hand. He had a feeling he knew what it meant.

 _Irritation sparked within him. "Crucio," he incanted and lifted it off a second later. "Each time you speak out of turn, I will hold the Cruciatus longer. Understood?"_

 _[Hadrian thrashed in the chair for a few seconds but didn't scream as Lily and the player did their best to protect him.]_

" _Ye-yes, Master."_

 **Yes, I AM your master, Rat. Had you been selected last time you would have been the perfect rat.** _Uttered the mental voice of Voldemort._

"No…" James denied, giving Lily a pleading expression. "Not Wormtail."

"It's nearly over," she encouraged with tears brimming. "You must see this."

 _Walking around the man once and watching as Pettigrew remained utterly still, he seated himself on the ornate, high back throne. "Your task, Wormtail, is simple. Retrieve the oldest Potter boy."_

 _Wormtail looked saddened but nodded quickly. "Yes master." His servant was about to leave but he didn't purely trust this one._

" _It seems you've learnt your place in_ my _ranks, Wormtail. I am pleased to see this," he gloated, watching the fear in the eyes of the rat._ **Yes, Wormtail, I never praise unless it's truly earnt.** _"And a reminder of what will happen if you disappoint me. CRUCIO!"_

The projection faded and Lily left her memory in the bowl in favour of coming to James and wrapping her arms around him. James was staring at an old Hogwarts photo of the four Marauders, his grip was threatening to break the frame. "I'm sorry, James. I wish I could say my pensieve is faulty but I checked it with a standard memory…" she explained, petering off.

He gave her a pleading look.

"Fully functional, James. I'm sorry, truly."

James relinquished his grip as his wife took the picture and placed the framed photo back on the desk. "We trusted him. For years he deceived the Order, but now he wanted to take our son? He agreed to it so _readily_."

Lily looked sympathetic and embraced him, no doubt knowing how much of a blow the news of Peter's treachery was to James. "I'm sorry, James."

"No, Lily," he objected as he pulled back to look her in the eyes. "I would rather know now than lose my family later. At one point, Peter would have been a part of that, but until I speak to him face to face will I won't know who he is truly loyal to." James gestured to the pensieve. "What's there is damning, but I want to hear it from his own mouth in front of the Order."

"Do you want me to leave the defences active, James?"

He nodded resolutely. "I won't lose them, Lilyflower." James promised her, before becoming engulfed in Lily's hug.

Taking the woman he loved to their room, James set himself down on the quilt and held her close. It was only a matter of time before the true pain of the betrayal hit him full force.


End file.
